


A Time for Unwanted Rest

by DanyellaSkylerSilverfire, notbug (KageKashu)



Series: Reconciliation-verse (or: Madara is kinda Crazy. Everyone's learning to live with it.) [8]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Animal Transformation, Communication, Hair-pulling, Healthy Relationships, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Madara's the asshole here, Massage, Oral Sex, Partial Transformation, Snogging, Spanking, Tickling, implied/referenced past noncon, mildly triggered character, sometimes best friends are assholes, sometimes you both find it weird, though they don't really get around to the kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 20:25:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17128175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanyellaSkylerSilverfire/pseuds/DanyellaSkylerSilverfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KageKashu/pseuds/notbug
Summary: Tobirama's on mandatory leave, and very, very bored. An early snow and new faces help keep it from being intolerable. And of course, Madara's there to help keep him occupied.





	1. First Snow

**Author's Note:**

> This one will be much slower to update than previous installments. But consider this a Christmas/Solstice/Hannukah or whatever you practice gift. ♡ If a chapter is ready, it will be up on Tuesdays!

For the first week or so, Tobirama barely noticed that he was being not so subtly kept from working. He felt trapped in his own thoughts, losing hours of time each day to silence, with the sound of Madara breathing in the background. For once, Madara was the one babysitting _him_ , and Tobirama couldn’t help but find it ironic. 

Madara was a surprisingly comforting presence. As long as he had a way to occupy his hands, Madara could maintain the silence for as long as Tobirama needed. 

After a while, once the thoughts were less distracting, Tobirama actually started watching those hands. That’s how he found that building models in bottles was hardly Madara’s only hobby. If it was something small and fussy that required a keen eye, he would find Madara doing it. 

First, there were all the tiny, precise stuff that went into the models - careful carving and painting of pieces, and even sewing what turned out to be a fishing net. There were larger carvings, knitting and what appeared to be embroidery. There was a rescued hawk in the guest bedroom, and he could occasionally hear Madara tuning some kind of string instrument. And while he hadn’t seen the instrument, he has heard Madara play a few simple songs on it. 

Tobirama quickly became preoccupied with the fact that Madara seemed to have far too many hobbies for any one person. And it helped, to focus on something so inane, even if it almost felt like commentary on Tobirama’s _lack_ of hobbies. Tobirama had hobbies. Sure, most of them were work related, but he _had them_. 

Of course, the next time he noticed what Madara was doing, he had some kind of old book in one hand, and was writing something with the other. What he was doing, Tobirama was unsure. He could be translating it, or merely writing notes. All he knew was that he was seeing what appeared to be yet another hobby. 

Rather than letting his mind swamp him again, Tobirama slid over so he could lean against Madara and look at what he’s reading. And quickly snorts in disgust. It _appears _to be poetry, but the style, and the kanji used suggest it to be at least a century out of date. Many of the kanji he sees he has to think about, as they’ve fallen out of common use. Which explains the notes, at least.__

__They sat in companionable silence for a while, until Tobirama reached over to pet Killer Jade. Madara, surprisingly perceptive, seemed to recognize that Tobirama was growing bored. “Would you like me to read it to you?” he asked, biting back a telling laugh. Tobirama could still hear it in his voice, and for once... it didn’t annoy him._ _

__And he liked listening to Madara when Madara wasn’t in a mood - the kind that involved shouting, anyway - so he smiled, turned his face into Madara’s shoulder, and said, “Yes.”_ _

__Madara’s voice was always a pleasure to listen to, when he isn’t shouting. It rumbled through his body, and relaxed him, with a cadence smooth and slow. “ _’T’were but a thought of fractious clouds, dark with urgency, waiting to fall upon parched earth. The ground so dry with need, desirous of that stormy seed, envelops all. Earth surrenders to the torrent, split open, with rushing water, spreading forth, breathes new life with a sigh.’_ ” Madara paused, then, with a humorous air, added, “Because of course it’s about a drought.” _ _

__Madara was halfway through the next line, something about blooming with the morning, when Tobirama actually realized that no, that was not about a drought. The word “urgency” should have clued him in. If not that, then “desirous” or “seed” or the fact that the earth, in said poem, was “split open”. It still took him far too long to realize what it _was_ about. “Madara? Are you reading me porn?” _ _

__With a wispy, papery sound, a page turned. “They really liked their metaphor, didn’t they?”_ _

__That wasn’t disagreement. Madara was usually embarrassed when even talking about this kind of thing, yet, for some reason, he’s reading erotic poetry with nary a blush. Processing that took a moment, but once he did... “Madara..?"_ _

__Madara paused his reading, slipping a bookmark into his book. “Yeah?”_ _

__“Have Gouawae take Killer Jade for a walk.”_ _

__Gouawae was already on it, before Madara had a chance to ask why, cheering about being trusted with patrolling. Not that Madara asked why, he just gave Tobirama a baffled look when Tobirama dragged him to the floor, and rolled on top of him. “What..? You can’t possibly have found that sexy.”_ _

__Tobirama snorted. It’s like Madara forgot all about his assets. “It’s your voice.” The topic only made certain that sex was on his mind. He smoothed a hand over Madara’s chest, enjoying the way his lover’s breath hitched, and hooked his fingers underneath where the robes clasp. “You can keep reading, if you want.”_ _

__He held Madara’s eyes for a moment, watched Madara open the book back up with unsteady fingers - and those gloves, that looked pitch black against the antique book cover. Madara’s eyes kept darting back to his, especially when Tobirama started pulling his robe open. “Blooming. Blooming... Where was I?” His voice was already breathy, much to Tobirama’s amusement. “ _’Arid land blooming under the storm’s gaze... Sweet and lush with new growth, welcoming rain into every nook, drinking in the storm’s passion, never satisfied...'_ Blooming is a terrible metaphor..!” _ _

__Madara cut himself off with a curse when Tobirama bit at his newly bared chest. Glared when Tobirama smiled innocently up at him. “I thought you were reading. Not critiquing the author’s choice in metaphor.”_ _

__“Right... You’re terrible. You know that, right?” Madara let out a frustrated groan upon receiving another hard nip. “This isn’t even the good stuff. Ow. Fine. _’The earth draws it deep within...'_ and this barely even counts as metaphor at this point.” _ _

__Instead of biting Madara again, Tobirama laughed into his stomach. If nothing else, the random commentary was humorous. “If you want me to blow you, stick to the poem.”_ _

__“Right.” This time, the word didn’t sound frustrated at all. It sounded like Madara was starting to get the point of this little game._ _

__He waited until Madara began reading again, glad that the man had forgone his clan’s traditional obi for the day. The robe, at least, was easy to push aside, and his pants weren’t overly complicated, either. Just a few simple ties to undo, that didn’t even need his full attention. Most of that was on the soft skin of Madara’s belly, hidden under soft, curly hairs._ _

__For a couple of sentences, Madara managed to sound almost normal, but for the occasional breathy sounds, but he pauses, groaning, when Tobirama palms his hardening cock. “That’s not fair,” he complained, squirming under the pressure. He looked down, only to find Tobirama’s completely unsympathetic smile._ _

__Tobirama very nearly laughed again at the sound Madara made in response. He didn’t have to wait this time, as Madara started back up without prompting. The cadence of his voice changed with a new poem - gardening euphemisms, this time - and one hand drifted down to Tobirama’s hair._ _

__He turned his head into the touch and took a moment to appreciate the scent of warm leather, mixing with the musk of Madara’s body. It was such a primal scent, and the low grade arousal he had since the start of this game grew into something more visceral. He wanted to hear Madara’s voice stutter through the last few lines he can manage, feel those fingers digging into his hair. More importantly, he wanted his mouth on him _now_. _ _

__A sharp sound caught in Madara’s throat when Tobirama pulled the last bits of cloth out of the way, his body tensing under Tobirama’s hands. Somehow, he managed to keep reading - though it started sounding like he was misreading the occasional kanji - even with Tobirama mouthing the side of his cock._ _

__Madara’s hand tightened in his hair, and he hazily repeated a line he already read, then cursed. His thighs were trembling beautifully under Tobirama’s hands, and Tobirama was only teasing the tip of him. “Tobirama... fuck, just..." He cursed again, and went back to read the line a third time._ _

__It was less pity and more want that drove Tobirama forward, taking as much into his mouth as he could in one go, and Madara cried out, thighs tensing as he fought his body’s natural inclinations. The next few words out of his mouth _might_ have been from the poem, but they were too garbled to tell. _ _

__By the tone of voice, and the way Madara praised him and plead in between nonsensical words - which might have some connection to the book - and breathy gasps, Madara was already close. It would be fascinating, if Tobirama weren’t so aroused, the way Madara’s voice faded to nothing just before he came. Hips jerking with an aborted thrust as he tensed, hand clenching and unclenching in Tobirama’s hair, as he spilled into Tobirama’s mouth._ _

__For a moment, Tobirama was too busy finishing himself to think about it. He just swallowed to get it out of the way, and focused on his own need. Gods, just listening to Madara was nearly enough. He barely needed his hand for this, he was so damned close._ _

__A breathy groan slipped from his throat when he finished, and for a moment, he blissfully nuzzled at Madara’s softening cock before letting Madara pull him up and into a lazy kiss._ _

__Reality intruded after a few minutes, because he could still taste Madara’s ejaculate, and he found himself frowning into the kiss. “You really need to pay more attention to your diet,” he murmured, not bothering to pull away, even when he could feel Madara start to frown as well. “Less meat, more fruit. Should probably cut back on the salt, too.”_ _

__“The fuck.” One of Madara’s hands cupped Tobirama’s forehead to push him back. Madara managed to look adorably pouty, which was stupid, because Tobirama didn’t like to admit it when adults were cute. Even in this case, where said adult is in his bed every night. “Why the fuck is that the first thing you say?”_ _

__“We’re shinobi. Diet is important.” He tipped his head off of Madara’s hand, so that he could curl up against him. He’s smiling, feeling better than he had in days, his mood gone a little silly. “Don’t tell me you’re with me for my post-coital charm.”_ _

__Madara sighed, longsufferingly, then snorted. “Seriously. You could have waited.”_ _

__Tobirama laughed, rubbed his face into the softness of Madara’s hair. “Yes, I could have waited until anija was here, harassing us. Would you have preferred that?” For all that Madara got so damned flustered at times, when he was being a _bastard_ , things didn’t seem to get to him as easily. _ _

__Madara unconsciously confirmed that thought after pondering his answer for a moment. “If he’s eating or drinking something, yes. Bonus if it’s noodles. I think it would be nice to see them come out his nose.”_ _

__They really were terrible influences on each other. It was a funny mental image though, and did nothing to help Tobirama stifle his laughter. “You really shouldn’t be encouraging me. Because I will do it.”_ _

__In response, Madara just pulled him closer, rubbing his back. He wasn’t quite laughing, but Tobirama could feel how close he was to it, like a thrum of amusement in his chest. It was really pleasant, feeling it like this, all warm and tucked in close. Sleepiness came over him like a wave, but he didn’t bother to say anything. Just let his limbs grow heavy and enjoyed the warmth, until he eventually fell asleep._ _

__

* * *

_  
_

Madara was in the guest room, tuning a biwa that he had snuck into Tobirama’s house, when _she_ showed up. He may not be a sensor on the same level as Tobirama, but it was easy enough to tell who that was from across the house. 

His shoulders hunched over the instrument, and he scowled at it. Perhaps she wasn’t there for the reason he feared. She’s Tobirama’s sister-in-law, so she could very well have been there for Tobirama. 

Platitudes are wonderful things, except when they don’t work. If he watched her chakra closely, he could sense Tobirama greeting her at the door - he may not hear any words, but the way their chakras briefly touched is clear enough - before she walked down the hall alone. 

Not wanting her to see the instrument, he quickly returned it to it’s hiding place. Then he stopped and eyed the hawk. It had only been a year since he stopped visiting the Uchiha mews, and this little bastard was as wild as they got. Not untameable, but... Madara wasn’t planning on keeping it once it recovered its flight feathers. 

That didn’t mean he wanted Mito to see it, though. So it was either throw a blanket over the cage and pretend it wasn’t there, or meet her in the hall. Meeting her in the hall was preferable, even if he almost wasn’t fast enough. 

There was a ten centimeter difference in their height, but with the way Madara usually hunched in on himself, it was nearly cut in half. She certainly never seemed that much shorter than him, either, except on those rare occasions he needed to straighten up for appearance’s sake. She also had no fear of looking him in the eye, unlike so many of the more powerful members of the village. “Why are you hiding back here?” 

“So that Tobirama doesn’t feel the need to,” he replied, perfectly honest. Sure, he used that time alone for other things, but... He was getting pretty good at telling when Tobirama wanted to be left alone. And usually managed to make it to where Tobirama didn’t feel the need to hide himself. 

She hummed thoughtfully, but gave him such a piercing look that it felt invasive. “Alright. Come with me. We’re starting this in the kitchen. Should I assume that you know how to make tea properly? Or do I have to start at the most basic of lessons?” 

“I can make tea,” he grumbled, lip sliding out into a pout. Off to the side, he could hear Tobirama snickering at him. At a glance, he could see that Tobirama was sitting at the kotatsu, like usual, with an array of papers sitting in front of him. None of it was paperwork, but Madara couldn’t quite see exactly what it was. 

“Alright. You’re going to show me how you make tea. Stay out of the top shelf. Those are for advanced lessons.” 

In very short order, it turned out that no, Madara apparently didn’t know how to make tea. He made a lot of mistakes with general preparation. Too much leaf, water too hot, let it steep too long. Like tea was supposed to be more than a method for getting caffeine into his system. 

When he made it how she wanted, it was bland, and he resolved that once he got through these lessons, he would never make it like this again. Not unless politics were involved. And even then... He actually found himself curious about the daimyo’s tea. Because he supposedly made it strong enough that Hashirama complained about it years later. Madara wanted to try it. 

There hadn’t been a sound from the kotatsu, but Madara still had the distinct feeling that Tobirama was laughing at him. When Madara found out that the ratio of leaf, heat and steeping changed with each variety, Madara made an extremely undignified noise, and there was a thump from the kotatsu as Tobirama collapsed face first onto it. 

_That bastard._ It was strange, how the thought was fond, even if the wording wasn’t. Madara didn’t mind that Tobirama found this whole thing entertaining. On some level, it... made him happy, knowing that this... utter stupidity... was bolstering the man’s mood. He still worried about Tobirama, even though he could see that he was slowly returning to normal. 

The rest of the lesson went in similar vein, Mito lecturing him on what kinds of teapots are appropriate for what kind of tea. She even went so far as to point out which pots he had better never use for anything but specific teas. Something about the residue of lower quality teas ruining the good stuff. Like gyokuro. Which... He understood that it was expensive, but beyond that, couldn’t really see _why_. 

It _was_ interesting to find that the gyokuro actually had more caffeine than most of the other teas, and the reason the caffeine was less noticeable - having a slower, gentler effect, while being more powerful than other teas - was due to high levels theanine, which is what gives tea its flavor. Interesting, but not particularly useful to him. He hardly minded the jolt large amounts of caffeine gave, and he didn’t drink tea for its flavor. 

Eventually, she decided that they were done for the day, leaving him with a warning that she was going to test him next time to make sure he had been listening. On her way out, she stopped to talk with Tobirama for several minutes, ignoring the noise Madara made as he cleaned up after the lesson. Sure, he could clean quietly, but he really wanted her to leave, and noise-making was his best option without going out there and yelling at her. 

“By the way,” he overheard her saying, “there’s a very large fox sitting near your door. Blocking the path. It took a bit of convincing to get it to move, and I thought you ought to know.” 

“As long as they don’t enter the house without permission, I don’t really care what Madara’s foxes are up to. It’s not like they’re interfering with my work, now, are they?” 

Long after Mito departed, Tobirama came into the kitchen and sat next to him at the table, watching as he cut paper into tiny pieces with a penknife. They were meant for a bottle as well, but... he didn’t think he was making a ship this time. He was growing bored of ships, for all that there were so many varieties to choose from. Maybe a garden, with a tiny gardener and shed. 

Tobirama waited until Madara was no longer cutting the precise shapes out, then asked, “Was it really all that bad?” 

“It’s rote memorization that she’s expecting at the moment, so no. It’s easy and _boring_ , but at least I’m not likely to fuck up.” It would be nice if the witch made things more interesting, but at least she wasn’t actively freaking him out. 

The rest of the evening passed by in companionable silence, and for once, Tobirama helped with preparing dinner. Mostly, his help amounted to peeling and chopping a lot of garlic, but Madara wouldn’t complain. It smelled amazing, sizzling in a pan with sweet onions - which, thankfully, Tobirama had a good stock of, otherwise they’d be the last ones of the year. 

He nudged Tobirama into preparing rice, while he mixed starch into the meat. Once Tobirama started in with the garlic, Madara had such a craving for gyudon, and he thought maybe, that ginger would also make a good addition this time. The oil in the pan snapped and popped at him, stinging his hands as he dumped the meat into the too hot pan, but he ignored it. 

The smell of it was even better now, and Madara had the stupidest urge to snag a half cooked piece of meat from the pan to snack on as he worked. He waits until he mixed in the ingredients that make up the sauce before snagging one up with the chopsticks. Tobirama rolled his eyes at him, but didn’t complain about hygiene or anything like Hikaku would have - or at least, used to - so Madara caught up a piece for him as well. And ignored Tobirama’s silent laughter. 

The meat was still rarer than he preferred, but had a lovely chewy texture already, and the sauce... was almost perfect. It just needed a touch more vinegar. Madara would be happy to just bask in that smell for days. 

Tobirama chewed through his piece with a lopsided smile, watching Madara carefully pour a tiny amount of vinegar into the pan, before stirring the saucy mess once more. “Smells good,” he offered. “Tastes excellent as well.” 

Madara made a face at him and told him to check on the rice. It shouldn’t be much longer, and if they timed it well, the rice and gyudon would be ready at the same time. Tobirama made a rude gesture with a bamboo spatula, but checked the rice anyway. 

A short time later, they sat at the kotatsu, biting back amusement because they said “Itadakimasu” at the same time _again_. It was starting to become a habit, but... it was one that Madara found himself liking. Madara had added some pickled veggies on the side for contrast, but the meal was mostly made up from what they worked on together. 

Madara’s favorite part of cooking was getting to eat what he made, but every time he watched Tobirama enjoying it as well, it brought back memories of why he bothered to learn more than the basics to begin with. It was warming, in a way few things were. Such as regularly eating with company... even if he was said company. 

With autumn cooling the air and Tobirama’s poor mood of late, the irori was more often lit than not, and if Madara doesn’t find him at the kotatsu, he’ll find Tobirama there instead, drinking tea and leaning toward the heat. They spend more time at the kotatsu, however, even for meals. 

When Madara first started spending time here, more often than not, there was no blanket in the kotatsu, but lately, it’s been constantly present. And instead of a brasier, there was some kind of seal underneath the table that constantly emitted a steady heat. It made it difficult not to get drowsy, sitting there. 

Sleep came surprisingly quickly that night, Tobirama snuggling against his chest, seeking warmth beneath blankets that held too much of the room’s chill. It was such a comforting way to fall asleep that Madara was still smiling when consciousness slipped away. 

It was just after midnight that he woke up, not quite sure what disturbed him. Tobirama was still curled up against him, legs twined between his, breath hot and damp against his neck. On Madara’s side, half of the blankets are kicked off, Tobirama’s body heat more than making up for the lack. A quick scan of his surroundings showed no disturbances, but there was a crisp, familiar quality to the air that tickled his subconscious. 

Before he could figure it out, something icy and wet raced up his back and he shrieked, sitting bolt upright. “What the fuck was that?” Next to him, Tobirama stilled, already fully conscious. 

“Gouawae is cold,” complained a tiny voice, and Madara caught the slithering form - a dripping wet pipe fox. 

“Gouawae is fucking sopping wet,” Madara replied, holding it at arm’s length. The moment Tobirama relaxed next to him, he felt it, and he also felt it when Tobirama started laughing. Because obviously Tobirama had to have a sick sense of humor. “Why are you wet? What have you been doing?” 

“Gouawae was investigating,” the pipe fox said. 

“Investigating what?” Even in his hands, the fox felt icy cold. Combined with the particular chill in the air, that familiar change... Snow. 

He was out of the bed in a flash, pipe fox dropped and forgotten, barely pausing long enough to throw on a yukata. Behind him, Tobirama yelped when Gouawae landed on his bare belly. Madara paused at that, slightly guilty, but Tobirama just shook his head at him when Madara glanced back. 

“Are you seriously just going out there like that?” Tobirama muttered, but didn’t seem to expect an answer. And when Madara slipped out onto the wraparound porch, he could hear Tobirama getting out of bed with a put-upon sigh. 

Much to Madara’s delight, the ground was already dusted over with a thin layer of white, and it was rapidly growing thicker. Fat flakes were falling down and Madara stepped out, barefoot, into the grass so that he could watch it come down properly 

In a few moments, once he got over the initial peaceful feelings the sight inspired, he had _plans_. Plans that involve gathering up a bucket of snow, and lugging it over to Hashirama’s house for nefarious purposes. 

Tobirama soon joined him, but unlike Madara, he was fully dressed. The crunch beneath his shoes distracted Madara away from his contemplation of the soft flurries that were starting to come down thicker. “I need a bucket,” Madara said, and watched the mischievous grin that slowly formed on Tobirama’s face. 

“Be right back.” 

When Tobirama came back, it was with two buckets. 

* * *

Tobirama should have started doing this years ago. The way Hashirama flailed out of bed, a shriek on his lips of “Why?!” was hilariously satisfying. Like she sensed it coming, Mito rolled out of bed and away from them, and crawled out of the room dragging a yukata that she was trying to put on. Smart of her. 

Between the two of them, it was all too easy to herd Hashirama, still naked, into the snow. And while something in him cringed in sympathy at the idea of Hashirama’s genitals being exposed to all those tiny ice crystals, he was enjoying himself too much. Hashirama often conspired to make his life hell. The least he could do was return the favor every now and then. 

After one particularly vigorous use of a handful of snow, Tobirama stepped back, and watched Madara and Hashirama wrestle. Madara’s manic glee made him more than a match for Hashirama as he currently was, though Hashirama was gaining ground, slowly but surely. “Once I’m completely numb, I’ll ruin you!” 

Tobirama choked. “Then I’ll dump you in the furo! See how you like that!” Madara shouted right back. Honestly, that was worse than the snow. Hashirama would certainly be screaming again if Madara succeeded in his threat. 

Eventually, Hashirama cried mercy, and Madara dragged him onto the porch, where Hashirama shivered for a little while, before commenting, “I can’t feel my dick.” The laugh that Tobirama had been choking back came bubbling out, and soon, all three of them were leaned up against each other, gasping between bouts of laughter, with broad grins and damp eyes. 

It was good, getting to laugh with Hashirama, even if his brother was a idiot. So often, they couldn’t see eye to eye, and while Tobirama occasionally enjoyed Hashirama’s company, it had been growing more and more forced as time went on. Especially given Hashirama’s most recent idiocy. But for the moment, that was forgotten, and they laughed. 

Hashirama’s arms and legs were as icy as the pipe fox’s body had been, and Madara’s hair, still braided but coming loose from activity, was nearly as wet. The snow was barely frozen, and melted easily. “Alright, idiots,” Tobirama said, chivvying them to their feet. “Time for a hot bath.” 

Hashirama whined in protest, even as the chill in his limbs prevented him from standing straight. 

While the tub filled, Tobirama tried to help the blood start flowing in Hashirama’s arms and legs again. Hashirama didn’t like having his limbs chaffed either, but didn’t protest. 

“Why were you trying to feel your dick anyway?” Madara grumbled, wringing out his hair. “You should keep your hands off it when sitting next to your brother.” 

“I should probably do something about that...” 

“Rub your dick some other time, anija,” Tobirama snapped, slapping Hashirama’s wrist when it looked like he was about to reach between his legs. “We can wash with lukewarm water. It should help.” Because he’s not about to get into the tub without washing first. 

Once Hashirama agreed that he was probably warm enough to avoid the worst of the pain caused by being subjected to such wildly differing temperatures, all three of them were still leary of getting into the bath. Even Tobirama, who was smart enough to be fully dressed before playing in the snow. He paid no mind to the little voice inside, reminding him that Hashirama wasn’t exactly given a choice about getting dressed. His brother _hated_ the cold, for all that he could ignore it when needed. 

Patience still lacking - not to mention the mood swings he’s had since leaving Yoshihiko’s commune - Tobirama eventually picked Hashirama up and dumped him into the water, before climbing in himself. Madara snickered at the way Hashirama yelped, but joined them with a soft hiss. The water was still too hot, but Tobirama grit his teeth and bore it, and soon, relaxed into it, as his body started to realize just how nice the heat was. 

“Why do you do this?” Hashirama asked, after a time. His tone was despairing, like it often was when he complained of Tobirama’s more questionable habits. This time, however, it was obvious who the complaint was directed at. “Every year. I’ve even tried to catch you out, but you _always_ know before I do. It’s three hours before dawn! How did you even know it was snowing?!” 

Madara snorted. “I don’t know _how_. I just always know.” He looked all too pleased with himself, and it was only Hashirama’s presence that kept Tobirama from leaning over and kissing his stupid face. 

Tobirama _had known_ about Madara’s habit with first snow. Hashirama didn’t say anything about it the first time, but each year after, he always whined to Tobirama the next day. 

“It’s really early this year,” Madara said, tone soft and musing. Almost wistful. “I wonder...” 

When he didn’t continue, Tobirama nudged him. “You wonder?” he prompted. 

“Eh. When I was younger... and it snowed at a weird time, we always said kaachan was coming home.” Madara shrugged, sinking lower in the water. For once, his hair wasn’t wrapped up in a futile attempt to keep it out of the water, and Tobirama suspected that when Hashirama went to drain the water, it was going to be plugged with shed hair. “I know better, but it still... It’s nice to think about, I guess." 

Tobirama knew nothing about Madara’s mother, beyond that he had to have one. He nudged Madara again. “Tell us about her.” 

“Could you properly describe your mother? I’ve always thought my own was the hardest person to explain to anyone. It could be because I grew up around her, but..." Madara made a face. “She’s... She always seems bigger than she is. Then you put her next to someone like Ate-jichan, and she’s a midget. Ate-jichan makes everyone look short though, so I guess that’s not useful.” 

Hashirama giggled. “Tobirama’s mother, Kasumi-chan, is really hard to describe too. I think it’s just a mother thing.” 

Tobirama could think of a few ways to describe his own mother, but he doubted that they would give someone the full picture. “She’s very sweet,” he said, because she was. “Surprisingly so.” 

“Sweet is not a word I’d use to describe kaachan,” Madara said, with a headshake. “Clever and... weird, is more... accurate. Enterprising. You know that monk, Miroku, that Kukaku sent for? If it tells you anything, he reminded me of her.” 

Knowing Miroku, as they’d met him through Itama, many, many years ago, Tobirama could definitely say that that was surprising. Just imagining Miroku with children was worth a horrified grimace. “That’s an unkind thing to say about your own mother.” 

Madara laughed. “You have no idea.” 

Just that reaction said a lot, and it made Tobirama _curious_. If it weren’t for one major issue, he would like to meet this woman. The issue was named Izuna, and if that was a rift between him and Madara, it could only be worse with Izuna’s mother. So instead of querying further, he dropped the subject, and leaned on Madara, allowing Hashirama to take over the conversation. 

As fun as the impromptu midnight gathering had been, he had been sleeping for a very good reason. The reason being that he was _tired_. He still was. But he wasn’t about to disturb the odd sense of cheer they had from both the rough game of earlier, or the quiet companionship they had right now. 

(It didn’t prevent him from falling asleep in the tub.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names:
> 
> Ate: "安殿" means “peaceful heavens”, and is considered archaic (Bleach expy)
> 
> Terms:
> 
> Irori: A sunken hearth used for central heating and for cooking. It seems to be set up in what would be the dining area.


	2. In Which Tobirama Decides Not to Adult

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's meet the parents day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little early chapter for New Years! Happy New Years everyone!

As if having a good day was a sign, Tobirama slipped right back into his slump the next morning, spending an hour watching snow melt under the sun. At least he was outside, though even that was concerning, with how still he stood. 

Madara did his best not to hover, in spite of his concern, though one of the times he checked, he saw Jin sitting silently next to his lover. He didn’t really _get_ his foxes. They had been so obnoxious, the few times he talked to them in the past weeks, about meeting Tobirama, then as soon as Tobirama was back, they grew shy. 

It was strange, to realize just how much free reign he had in Tobirama’s personal space. He barely thought about it, anymore, when digging up a winter haori for the stupid man, and tabi for his feet. Madara might be stupid enough to play in the snow barefoot, but he only did it when he was excited. Hashirama’s the one who rolled around in it naked. 

(He happily ignored the fact that Hashirama wouldn't have done so if Madara didn’t make a tradition of _making_ him play in it, ready or not, each year.) 

Tobirama was still standing where he left him when he came back. Jin still sat at his side. They were both still silent, though Tobirama flinched when Madara dropped the haori over his head. “You aren’t dressed for this,” Madara complained, fussing at him until he had the haori on - rolling his eyes, which was a good sign - and sat down to put on the tabi as well. 

“Why are you making me dress for a walk?” Tobirama asked. At least he put on the tabi without complaint, though Jin looked like she was thinking about stealing one before the process was complete. She restrained herself, and Tobirama quickly slipped on the second one. 

“I don’t like seeing you moping. I thought you could introduce me to your mother..." Madara trailed off, suddenly realizing that Tobirama might not actually want him to meet her. He wanted to. But, if Tobirama wanted to introduce them, he would probably have already done so, wouldn’t he? 

In spite of Madara’s concerns, Tobirama seemed to perk up. “That’s... No, that’s a good idea. I haven’t talked to her much since I came back, and I was... waiting for a good time to introduce you two.” 

Madara reached over, intending to free the hair that had been trapped by the careless way Tobirama dressed, and Tobirama leaned into his hand when he couldn’t help but turn it into a caress. He caught himself hyperfocusing again, this time on the way Tobirama’s eyelashes looked when his eyes fluttered closed. Unthinking, he brushed his finger up the reddened cheek, and Tobirama’s eyes flutter back open, a curious look in them. 

It took more effort than it reasonably should to turn away from that. Tobirama’s eyelashes are ridiculously pretty looking, and his _eyes_. It wouldn’t do to accidentally get into a staring match with him. If it were socially acceptable, he could stare for so long, because they’re strange and beautiful. From a distance, they reflected red, but up close... There’s a fine tracery of what could have been blue, if the pigment in his irises was thicker. 

He was so focused on Tobirama’s eyes that he missed the way Tobirama smiled - though he did catch an odd glitter in those eyes for a brief moment - before leaning up and kissing the tip of Madara’s nose. 

Madara was still blinking and questioning what had just happened when Tobirama stood, offering him a hand to pull him up as well. “You _dork_ ,” Madara finally settled on saying, once they were on their way. 

He was stupidly pleased when Tobirama let him tuck an arm around his waist as they walked, though. Even more so when Tobirama leaned into the embrace like that was exactly what he had been hoping for. 

Tobirama directed him toward the market first - “If I visit haha-ue without warning, I bring her things. You can bring her something too. Leave a good impression.” - and perused the stalls, still glued to Madara’s side. There were still bits of snow on the ground, but on the roads it turned into slurry, making the ground treacherous, even for shinobi. It made walking a mutual effort. 

This was one of the strangest things Madara had ever done with a romantic partner, and he was enjoying it far too much. Tobirama wasn’t being helpful about what kinds of gifts were acceptable for his mother, and there was a sly hint in the smile he kept turning Madara’s way. Madara suspected that he was probably missing something about the situation, and hoped it wasn’t something that would bite him in the ass. 

No, he was pretty sure that whatever it was, it wouldn’t be a real issue. For all that he’s learned that Tobirama can be an utter asshole with pranks, it usually isn’t unearned. And Madara didn’t think he’s earned a nasty prank with any of his recent behavior. He had been _nice_ , and he knew that Tobirama enjoyed his cooking. 

It probably will have something to do with Tobirama’s mother - who Madara imagined must be stern, for Tobirama to refer to her as “haha-ue”. When he said so, however, all he got in response was poorly muffled snickers. “You could be helpful, you know.” 

“No. If I help you, she’ll _know_.” 

Tobirama slipped away from his side for a moment, and came back with a small basket of pears, just in time to steer Madara away from a stall selling tea. Madara could admit to himself that Tobirama probably had a point, given how Mito was about his tea preparation methods. 

Panic was beginning to try to set in when he spotted the little sign - ichijiku, _figs_. The last time Madara had had figs, he was on the edge of Kaze no Kuni at just the right time of year. They were fresh. To be here, in Konoha, this late in the year, they must be preserved, but Madara headed that way anyway. 

By the time they got to it, even Tobirama looked intrigued. He watched Madara closely while Madara questioned the merchant. The man’s answers seemed legitimate enough, so after examining the actual product and haggling for a minute, Madara was now the proud bearer of a gift of preserved figs. 

When they turned back toward Tobirama’s house, Madara had a moment of confusion, before he realized that Tobirama’s mother probably lived fairly close to him. He was smart enough not to mention the thought - knowing that at best, Tobirama would laugh, and at worse, he would be mocked - but he chastised himself for not knowing about this. 

Tobirama’s mother’s house was larger than Tobirama’s, but smaller than the house the Uchiha clan insisted Madara have. Unlike Madara’s house, it looked cozy and lived in, and there were signs that young children lived here. There were bright mums visible through the remains of snow, arranged so subtly, that he could almost believe that they grew there naturally. 

The figs suddenly seemed inadequate. Tobirama wouldn’t let him turn back toward the market when he tried to turn around, however. “Don’t worry so much. I’m sure she’ll like you. After all, _I_ like you.” 

That wasn’t reassuring. 

“If you want some advice on how to make sure she’ll like you,” Tobirama said, leaning in to smile against Madara’s ear. His breath was warm, and Madara _did not_ need those kind of warm fuzzies right now! “Keep stressing. When you snap and freak out, she’ll find it as funny as I do.” 

Madara turned, planning to start yelling right into Tobirama’s face, but froze when the door opened. A small figure with a narrow face and hair the color of a carrot stared out at them. “Who the..." He curbed his tongue at the last moment, because _child_. “Uhm. Fuck. Okay. Gods damn it, I did it anyway. Right. Who is this?” 

“This is Miako. My youngest brother.” Sure enough, the tiny face that looked up at Madara was shaped quite similarly to Tobirama’s. The carrot orange hair threw him off though, and Madara wondered if all of Tobirama’s siblings each have a different color of hair. Fuuko had been blonde, whereas Komaki’s hair had been black. If all the siblings look different, what will their mother look like? 

“Did you bring haha-ue a toy?” the little boy asked, peering up at Madara with suspicious eyes. 

Madara sputtered, while Tobirama laughed. “Did he just call me a hooker?” 

“Hookers get paid,” Tobirama replied. Then, to Miako, “No, this one’s mine.” 

“Tobirama!” 

“I do try to be honest, Madara.” 

That ensured that Madara couldn’t _help_ but to already be puffed up like a bantam by the time he met Tobirama’s mother. She looked quite innocuous, sitting with two girls, who, together, might weigh as much as the boy. They were doing something with flowers, though the girls immediately dropped what they were doing to rush Tobirama’s shins. “‘Nija, ‘nija!” they chanted, and the next step Tobirama took, he was weighed down by toddlers. 

Then Tobirama’s mother looked up, smiling, and Madara thought, _’There is no way this woman is Tobirama’s mother. She’s got to be another sister or something.’_ “Seriously, Tobirama?” he asked, nudging him. “Are you fucking with me again?” Because the three children and the woman were the only ones in the house, and Tobirama damned well knew that. 

“Haha-ue..." Tobirama made a frustrated sound, ignoring Madara, and walking up to the woman. “Grab these gaki off of my legs, would you?” 

She laughed brightly. “Come now, let your brother go, then we can see what he brought us!” 

Madara clutched the box of figs, almost giving in to the urge to hide it. This felt like a set up, but he wasn’t sure what kind, and he probably looked stupid, left standing awkwardly near the door. Tobirama placed his basket on the table, and when the woman reached for it, Madara finally saw the bulge of her belly. It wasn’t large, but she was still visibly pregnant. She _had_ to be too young to be Tobirama’s mother! 

Then she turned that bright smile on him. “You must be Tobira-chan’s boy. Come here! Let me look at you!” 

Madara stiffened, shoulders coming up defensively, but forced himself to walk forward, anyway. Then he crouched, because he didn’t want her to have to stand. His throat closed on him, preventing a greeting, so he silently offered the box of figs. 

“Aw, you really are cute! Fuuko told me you were!” Instead of taking the box, she reached out to push his hair out of his face. “Oh, I bet you’d have such a lovely smile! And your hair! So pretty and soft!” 

He didn’t even need to look. Tobirama was obviously pretending not to laugh at him. Again. He didn’t know whether to be freaked out, or outraged, or some terrible mix of the two. As a general rule, no one complimented his hair. “What? No!” 

“Yes,” she said, and giggled when his hair clung to her hand. “And it’s so emotional! I like that!” She leaned toward him, a speculative gleam in her eyes as she played with the lock she still held. 

Madara was all for leaning away, alarmed, but Tobirama beat him to it, snapping, “Haha-ue! Hands off. Besides, I’m fairly certain Madara isn’t into women.” Although she looked disappointed, she did sit back, and even gave up her hold on Madara’s hair. She pouted though, and she looked enough like Tobirama that it was eerie. 

“Just take the box, please?” He needed to get out of her reach, and that wasn’t happening until she took the damned box. Which she does, the smile returning to her face. 

“Hmmm. Smells sweet, but not like baked goods..." Ignoring convention, she began opening the gift before he had a chance to back away. “Oh what are these... Figs!” Somehow, her smile managed to grow brighter, and she danced in place. “I already know just what to use them for!” 

“Tobirama..!” Wasn’t it Tobirama’s job to actually make proper introductions? 

For the first time since arriving, Tobirama took pity. “Haha-ue, this is Madara. Madara, this is haha-ue, though others call her Kasumi. The boy is Miako. The girls are Suiko and Tsuchiko. The one getting ready to climb your back is Tsuchiko.” 

When Madara glanced back, there was a tiny round face surrounded by dark, flyaway hair gazing unrepentantly up at him. He shrugged. He can handle children. The only thing the little ones ever seemed to want from him was to climb his hair. A moment later, that was proven by a sharp tug, and sudden weight against his back. “I see.” 

Tsuchiko was the only one who managed to have their mother’s coloring, though Kasumi’s hair was much longer, with a simple tie toward the end keeping it from swinging in front of her. Thankfully, she was fully distracted by the figs and the pears - which immediately were sliced into small pieces for the children. 

The visit didn't last long, and the worst Madara had to deal with for the rest of it was an energetic toddler clinging to his hair and - he wasn’t sure about this - pretending to assassinate him. Which said interesting things about the household, he supposed. 

When it was finally time to head home, Tobirama did much as he had earlier, leaning right up against Madara as they walked. Tobirama seemed more _peaceful_. Even if he had a hard time handling the visit, Madara couldn’t help but be grateful for what it seemed to do for Tobirama. 

Hopefully, it boded well for the rest of the week. 

* * *

“I’m still off mission rotation.” 

There was a time, when Madara would have been amused by the utterly stressed look Tobirama had when he said it. Now, he just felt guilty. And now he knew what Tobirama had been doing this morning, while Madara was taking care of the hawk. 

He could point out that Tobirama brought this on himself. Whether or not he wanted to admit to it, Tobirama had _compromised_ himself. Like anyone else who had gone out and deliberately gotten themselves _mindfucked_ , Tobirama had consequences he has to face. And one of those consequences of being _brainwashed_ , no matter how temporary, or how much he knew what he was getting into, was that he couldn’t currently be trusted to have his head on straight. Not yet. Not when it hasn’t been much more than two weeks since the incident in question. 

It didn’t make him feel any less guilty. 

Tobirama let out a heartfelt sigh, then sidled over to lean against Madara. “I thought they would put me back on by now,” he grumbled, pressing his face against Madara’s shoulder and breathing deeply. “I can’t even go into the office without someone following me to shoo me out.” 

...Madara wasn’t about to admit that he _might_ have been the one to suggest that. But he was more worried about Tobirama than guilty. After Tobirama’s first night back... He could understand, that potent desire to do anything but think, especially after the emotional outburst. If nothing else, Madara was able to walk away from that with a slightly better understanding of Tobirama and the way he thought. 

He also learned that, unlike Hashirama, Tobirama doesn’t cry artfully. He cried _ugly_. His face was such a mess, red and blotchy, tears still streaming when Madara kissed him. At the same time... He saw Tobirama with all of his defences down - a lost and prickly creature that, in that moment, _needed him_. That was its own kind of beautiful. 

Sadly, they’re _both_ currently off active duty. Madara had even handed over most of the clan administrative crap over to Hikaku, unable to concentrate on anything that actually needed his attention. For Tobirama, he suspected that Touka was doing the same - though she certainly already had plenty on her plate. The upside was that he didn’t have to worry about leaving Tobirama alone. 

So far, Tobirama didn’t seem to be exhibiting any major signs of distress - just a tightening of his jaw here, a faraway look there. Nightmares. Something like emptiness in his eyes every now and then. Sometimes staring at nothing for a time. Nothing like the sheer despair Madara had felt after his own experience with Yoshihiko, and rage that he wasn’t allowed to go back. Later, he understood why, but at the time... 

Madara sighed, wrapping an arm around Tobirama’s waist. There’s something almost incongruous about having the ability to sit together like this, after everything the last couple weeks had to offer. The couch in the corner of Tobirama’s living room - the very same one that Madara kept forgetting about, even after seeing Hashirama climb out of it that one time - was ridiculously comfortable, and the perfect place for them to relax. 

The damned thing was as hideous as it was comfortable, and looking at it was some kind of strange torture. Madara’s just glad that he didn't have to look at it to sit in it. 

“There are things that I’m going to need to tell you,” Tobirama murmured, shifting slightly. “Some of which I found out while I was... there. Others are... realizations I had.” He let out another sigh when Madara pressed a kiss to his temple. 

Madara was understandably _torn_. He genuinely wanted to know everything he needed in order to help his lover get better. At the same time... He didn't know if he could handle more information about the Yoshihiko business. It’s encouraging that Tobirama was finally starting to talk about it, but Madara didn’t want to know. 

“He asked me what I had to offer, that he couldn’t get somewhere else.” A strange, bubbling laugh welled up in Tobirama’s throat, and the man shook his head. “I said, ‘Youth.’” 

He could have said something more disturbing than that, Madara’s certain. What, he didn’t know, because that was pretty damned disturbing. Still, he licked his lips, and after a moment, managed a soft, “Yeah?” 

Another shift and a deep sigh, and Tobirama slid down to lay on his back, head resting on Madara’s thigh as he looked up at him. “I’m tired of being an adult right now.” 

There were bruises under his eyes, the kind that Madara’s had for years, but they don’t look right on him. They’ve been there for weeks. Yesterday lightened them, but they were still there. The look in his eyes suggested utter seriousness, and... Madara got it. He didn’t want to be an adult right now, either. “Being an adult sucks, doesn’t it?” 

A soft hum, thoughtful, and Tobirama reached up to touch Madara’s cheek, as though to draw the attention he already had. His fingers were chill, and if Madara were more willing to get up, he would collect a blanket for them. “If you could see what I was like at any age - under nine - what age would you want to see?” 

“That’s an odd question.” And a stranger qualifier. He scanned Tobirama’s expression, trying to find any hint of what his lover was thinking, but only saw that stressed weariness that he hoped would go away soon, and leave him with sharp eyes and hidden mischievous grins again - like the past two days, but not fading away after he slept. After giving the question a long moment of consideration, he said, “Three, I guess.” 

“...Try a different age.” 

Madara found himself hoping that this was a hypothetical question, but the pout on Tobirama’s face was telling. “You asked me a question. I answered,” Madara told him, then poked at Tobirama’s protruding lip until his lips were even with each other. “I’m suddenly very curious about three. That’s just out of the obnoxiousness of two, and old enough that children try to ‘help’ their parents. And it’s the same ages as your little sisters. So. What were you like at that age?” 

The pout threatened to return, but instead, Tobirama just sighed again, with feeling. “Fine. Three.” Then he pulled himself out of Madara’s lap, gave him the most petulant scowl, before dragging himself to his feet and walking out of the room. 

Okay. That was... weird. He didn’t know where this was going, and listening to Tobirama rummaging about in his bedroom wasn’t particularly enlightening. The sudden surge of chakra had him on his feet without thinking, and heading straight toward the bedroom door. 

Only to freeze in the doorway. He honestly had no idea what he was expecting, and he could feel the chakra rushing into his eyes, activating his Sharingan. Whatever this was, it wasn’t an illusion. Standing all of two feet tall, and featuring the chubbiest cheeks Madara had ever had the joy to see on a toddler, Tobirama stared up at him from where he seemed to be fighting on a child sized yukata. 

Madara still didn’t have words for what he wanted to say. (He also didn’t know why he was so surprised that Tobirama would and could do this to himself.) 

“Help!” Tiny Tobirama demanded, in a squeaky baby voice, waving his obi in Madara’s direction. 

He thought he might finally understand what some women mean when they say that their ovaries are exploding when they see something cute. Tiny Tobirama really was that cute. Madara had to give himself an internal kick before he could get to his knees and help Tobirama get his yukata and obi on right. 

“My arms are too short and my fingers are too in-ar-ticu-late. This is why I said another age, Mada-ra!” Tiny Tobirama turned _the pout_ on him, and he just. Had to pause. That expression was cute enough on Tobirama as an adult. On Tiny Tobirama, it’s weaponizable. 

“I have to squish your cheeks.” 

Tiny Tobirama sighed, longsufferingly. “If it gets me dressed, I don’t care.” 

(His cheeks were just as squishy as they looked.) 

* * *

For the most part, Tiny Tobirama seemed content to explore his own house and back garden. And while he was verbally articulate, and had no apparent holes in his memory, he was... very much a three year old. Small, interested in poking at _everything_ , easily distracted, and constantly craving sugar. 

Madara couldn’t bring himself to tell him no, when Tiny Tobirama directed him to “where big me hides extra sweets,” out of the reach of small children. Unsurprisingly, it was shortly after that that Madara found out just how fast a three year old who has mastered chakra and is hopped up on sugar can run. He couldn’t say how tag - at least, that’s what he thought the tiny fiend was playing - turned into hide and seek, but Tobirama suddenly being _gone_ was _not_ good for his stress. 

It turned out he was hiding in the ornamental koi pond. Which... Yeah, he should have guessed that. 

Thankfully, Tiny Tobirama didn’t come with unlimited energy. He wound down after a while, growing tired of playing, and was content to sit next to Madara. Not quite napping, but not fully awake, either. 

The weirdest thing Madara could see about the whole thing was that Tiny Tobirama clearly remembered everything. He knew who Madara was, was able to point out where, as an adult, he liked to hide things - not just sweets either. Yet, other than how much he knew, he acted very much like a highly precocious small child. 

Madara even had to pull Gouawae out of his mouth at one point - something he really doubts he would have to worry about if Tobirama were an adult right now. All in all, they were having a very weird day. (Such things might be normal to Tobirama, but for _Madara_ , they most certainly were not.) 

“Should go see anija,” Tiny Tobirama muttered, sighing dramatically. He slid down, in an odd echo of this morning, to look up at Madara from his thigh. “If he finds out I did this and I didn’t see him, he’ll _pout_.” 

And that’s how Madara ended up taking Tiny Tobirama across town. 

The first obstacle was the tenko. Jin laid on the porch like one of the Inuzuka’s dogs, ears twitching occasionally. They perked right up when Madara came out, and the fox was on its feet in a split second, stretching out and nosing the tiny bundle held in one arm. “What is this? Is this your mate? What happened to him?” 

It was Madara’s turn to sigh, as Tiny Tobirama reached out with one curious hand to inspect the quivering nose of the summon. “Yes, this is Tobirama. He did this to himself. Now, if you don’t mind..." 

“Madara. Madara.” Tiny Tobirama tapped the side of Madara’s head with one hand. “Madara!” 

“Yes?” 

“I want to ride the fox.” 

* * *

Tobirama was _gleeful_. As an adult, he wouldn’t admit it, but he had always wanted to ride a fox. Jin, it turned out, was quite accommodating. Once she got over a series of unintentional insults. 

He could tell Madara was fighting back laughter, but didn’t really care. The whole point of being a small child was to let go of most of his worries. Right now, he only had a few worries. Such as making sure he didn’t fall off the fox - although he’s sure if he slipped, Madara would catch him - and indulging his curiosity by continuing to ask all the questions he wouldn’t bother with as an adult. 

So far he managed to learn quite a bit about how the foxes of Mount Inari live, and even that their main institution was a temple to Inari. Sure, he could have figured that out on his own, given the priestly accoutrements that Jin wears, but a verbal confirmation is always good. 

When they reached the administrative building, he had to give up his mount, and Madara scolded the fox about not being allowed inside official buildings as he lifted Tobirama up to his shoulder. He really needed to tell Madara just how neat he thought his summons were. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so reluctant to summon them. 

Once they were on the floor with the offices, Tobirama began to squirm, wanting to walk himself. He also kinda wanted to greet everyone before reaching his brother. As soon as Madara let him go, off he went, straight for the nearest door. Who’s office it was, he couldn’t be bothered to remember, but he stood on his toes and reached for the handle. 

The door opened to a very surprised looking Kouga and Mizumaru - Kouga’s dog and partner, who Tobirama probably acknowledges less than he should. “Hello,” Tobirama told the dog, then looked up at Kouga. “Hello,” he repeated. Then started to close the door, but a canine snout stopped him. 

“Hey, what’s a little kid doing... Why the hell do you look like Tobirama and smell like him?” 

Tobirama rolled his eyes and didn’t bother to dignify that with an answer, just turned around to head for the next door, under Madara’s watchful gaze. Behind this door was Sora’s office, and he seemed to be having a meeting with Yasutora. Yasutora looked even bigger from this angle, and it would be intimidating if the Nara didn’t remind Tobirama of a rock. 

“Hello,” he said to Yasutora, then, “Hello,” to Sora. And he moved on again, ignoring the conversation starting behind him. 

“Hey, Madara? What’s with the kid?” 

Tamotsu signed a cheerful hello back when Tobirama greeted him, for once completely straightforward, and that brought a smile to Tobirama’s face. Sarutobi blinked at him and asked him if he was on a first errand, which he _obviously was not_ , but wasn’t about to explain. 

Finally, he was at the final door, and somehow Madara had gotten ahead of him. And for the first time, his three year old brain registered that Hashirama’s chakra wasn’t alone. That wasn’t counting Madara standing in the door, shocked and... something else. Like the two chakra signatures standing inside, Tobirama wasn’t familiar with it. 

“Killer Jade,” he said, tugging on Madara’s pant leg, and Madara looked down at him with a lost expression that worried Tobirama. Then he smiled, and reached down to pick him up, so it couldn’t be _too bad_ , could it? 

Hashirama made a weird squeaking noise upon seeing him, but that wasn’t unusual at all. Now that he was being held high enough to do so, he examined the two strangers. One was a tall man, who’s hair was Uzumaki red, and had yakuza tattoos running up his neck. The other was a girl, not much taller than Kagami, who’s coloring matched Madara. 

Normally, he would assume that they were here applying for asylum - mildly alarming, given that Konoha’s location shouldn’t be easy for asylum seekers to even find, yet. Except... Madara knew them. 

* * *

Madara was panicking. Just a little. Somewhat inanely, the thought kept running through his head, _I would have sworn she was bigger than that..._ Of course, his stupid mouth had to open up and spew out something even worse. “If you keep shrinking, we’ll never be able to find you!” 

Uncle Ate immediately laughed, as big and boisterous as Madara remembered, and Madara’s mother’s face split into an amused grin. “There’s my awkward baby!” she cheered. And went in for a hug. Madara had to juggle around the bunny bag and Tiny Tobirama to make that possible, and ended up with Tiny Tobirama’s pointy elbow hitting him above his ear for his trouble. “Who’s this?” she asked, then her hands went for Killer Jade’s bag, and Madara had to step back, because his mother had sticky fingers. “And what’s in the bag?” 

“Uhm,” he said, still dodging her. “Tiny Tobirama and... fuzzy therapy.” 

“Tiny Tobirama?” he vaguely heard Hashirama say in a too pleased tone. “I’m going to have to remember that.” 

“Fuzzy therapy?” his mother asks, not having given up on getting a hold of the bag. 

Madara couldn’t help the distressed sound he made. “Kaachan. It’s alive and I don’t want you to accidentally hurt it.” To her credit, she stopped right away, but she started pouting at him. First meeting in nearly five years, and this was not how he was expecting it to go. (He couldn’t admit to himself, not right now, that he never expected to see her again anyway, so there really weren’t any expectations to begin with.) 

“What about the kid? Who let you run off with their kid?” She stood on her toes, trying to get a proper look at Tobirama, but was thwarted when Tobirama pulled Madara’s hair around him and hid his face in his collar. 

Oh gods, if there was something about this that Madara didn’t want to explain, it was Tobirama. It never occurred to him that he might have to explain Tobirama to her, and now she was here, asking him questions. “Tobirama?” he said, but his tone came out querulous. 

Tiny Tobirama shook his head, burying his face even further into Madara’s collar, and when his mom tried again to get a closer look, Madara put his hand on her forehead and pushed her back. Tobirama’s head tilted, as though peeking at her, while she complained. 

“I don’t think so, kaachan. He doesn’t know you. So... Uhm. For now, leave him alone?” 

“I’m not going to eat him, no matter who’s kid he is!” She tried to dodge around his hand and failed. “I just want to look! I’m not going to grab him from you.” When she managed to slip past his hand, she was stopped short, lifted off the floor by her obi. 

Behind her, Ate shrugged and smiled, but didn’t put her down, even when she kicked back at him. “Hey, midget. Give Madara some space, would you? It’s been a while, so _chill out_.” 

Madara missed that crude sensibility. It was still a shock to see them again, but damn, did he miss them. He happened to glance over at Hashirama, and caught a too bright expression on his face. And was immediately suspicious. “What?” 

Hashirama just smiled. And fidgeted. It was one of those big smiles he used when he was nervous or hiding something. “Hmmm? Oh, nothing, nothing. Why don’t you uh... eheh... take your m-mm-mother and uh, uncle and get them settled in. You can leave Tobira with me, if you want.” 

Tobirama shook his head, but didn’t pull away. “No, ‘nija.” 

“I thought you wanted to see him?” Madara asked, blinking. 

“Saw him. Dun wanna stay with him. Wanna stay with _you_.” There went his heart again. Tiny Tobirama was far too blunt, but it made Madara _happy_ , hearing that. 

Hashirama slumped forward against his desk, but Madara ignored him. Maybe, if they didn’t feed the behavior, one day the theatrics would stop. But Hashirama’s words did hit a target: Madara’s mother and Ate would need a place to stay. 

The idea of placing them in his house bothers him, but a tiny voice whispers in his ear. “They can stay with us, for a little while.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Traditions:
> 
> First errand: So seeing a small child seemingly alone as they go and try to do something for the more grown up people in their life is a thing. Apparently it’s also common to follow them while they’re at it and record it.
> 
> Terms:
> 
> Gaki: Technically a type of demon. No matter how much they eat, they’re always starving. At first glance, they look almost like children. Sometimes, this word is used like “brat”.
> 
> Yakuza: Japanese gangs. Different gangs have different tattoos, but some have similar meanings across the country.
> 
> Names:
> 
> Miako: lit “Beautiful Mountain Fox” “美阿狐,” even though he thinks it’s spelled “美飴,” for “Beautiful Candy” because _someone_ , not naming names, fucked with him (Bleach expy)
> 
> Suiko: lit “water fox”, “水狐” (Bleach expy)
> 
> Tsuchiko: lit “earth fox”, “土狐” (Bleach expy)


	3. Awkward Family Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Madara has dinner with his mother, and Tobirama realizes that he _has to_ be an adult.

Tobirama was highly suspicious of the girl Madara called “kaachan.” He knew he wasn’t the right person to be saying this right now, but she was far too tiny. She also wasn’t quite letting go of the idea of getting Madara to let her hold _him_. Which... no. Tobirama’s stomach lurched at the very thought, because... if she realized who he was, she would _hate him_. And it’s not smart to let someone who hates you hold you. 

“Madara,” he said, poking at the side of Madara’s head, through all that hair - all that distracting hair that he wanted to play with. “Madara. Madara.” It always takes at least three tries to get the attention of anyone bigger than him, but Tobirama was more than willing to say Madara’s name as many times as he needed to. “Madara. Madara!” 

Madara sounded a bit breathless when he responded. “What is it, Tiny Tobirama?” 

Tiny Tobirama wasn’t sure he liked that nickname, but it was much better than when he’d originally been this age. “I have more guest rooms. One’s even _clear_.” 

Madara paused, looking over his shoulder at his mother and the man with her. “I see. When we get back, you’ll show them to me.” 

“Mmkay.” Tobirama slouched down, and pushed the curtain of Madara’s hair out of the way to look at the tiny woman. He could see a little more clearly like this than as an adult, but she was still pretty blurry. The shadows of her eyes were locked on him, though, and he let the hair fall back into place to hide himself. 

“Madara..." said Madara’s mother, sounding more and more pleading. “I just want to hold him!” 

“No, kaachan,” Madara sighed, and took a step that felt up. Tobirama glanced around, surprised to realize that they were home. 

“Madara. Madara..." A hand moved in front of his face, gently muffling his repetition. 

“Yes, Tiny Tobirama?” Madara asked, moving his hand away. 

“I want down. I want to pet the fox before we go in though.” As soon as he was on his feet, the big fox, Jin, was there, sticking her nose into his hands. 

“Can I come in too?” she asked, grinning a foxy grin. 

“No,” Tobirama decided. Above him, Madara snickered. “Big me wouldn’t like that.” Big him also knew that foxes would take anything you gave them, and often more besides. And in the end, Tobirama was a child to avoid stress. Having foxes traipsing in and out of the house would probably give him more stress in the end, and even when he was tiny, Tobirama knew that. 

He dodged Madara’s mother’s attempt to pick him up, and watched as Ate picked _her_ up, scolding her. He had to look up and up and up to actually see the man’s face, and it was so far away that it wasn’t clear at all. “Thank you!” he chirped at the man, then turned to run into the house. 

The house seemed to be exactly the same as he left it, once he sat down and took off the sandals he kept for his sisters, so that he could make a quick check. Then he waited at the hallway to show Madara the other guest rooms. As soon as he could, he took Madara by the hand and showed him down the hall. 

“This one is mostly storage. And this one is where anija sleeps when he sleeps over and he’s not being creepy. You took over the room Kukaku usually uses. There’s another one that Fuuko and Komaki sometimes use, but Komaki rarely stays over. I think anija’s room would be good. Fuuko keeps things in her room, and she probably wouldn’t want someone to get into it and..." He had to stop to take a breath. 

“Hashirama’s room it is,” Madara said, turning him back toward the living area. 

“Madara, Madara, what’s for dinner?” 

Madara made a soft, choked off noise. “I have no idea. Let me build up the fire, and we can have tea first.” He poked Tobirama’s nose when Tobirama made an unhappy face up at him. “I’m sure I can manage to make a decent guricha, so stop with the face!” 

Tobirama sighed at him, unfortunately dramatic, then turned around to go get some blankets for their guests. Four blankets were difficult for this tiny form, and he tripped a few times, just dragging them out of where he stored them. 

Madara’s mother was already poking at the irori, muttering to herself that if they drank Madara’s version of tea, no one would be sleeping tonight. Tobirama couldn’t help a giggle, because she was _right_ , and he quickly deposited one blanket next to her before hurrying around to where Ate was already sitting. 

Ate was _huge_ , and not only was his hair Uzumaki red, he even looked just a bit like Mito’s big brother, when Tobirama was close enough to see his features. One of the blankets was a soft blue that Tobirama’s youngest sisters liked, and for some reason, he thinks Ate might like it too, so he chooses that blanket to leave next to the man. 

Then he darted around to where Madara was setting up a pot full of stock and veggies over the fire, stood on his toes to see what was already inside. “Hotpot!” It had been so cold the past few days, that a hotpot would be _perfect_! 

“Yeah, I figured we could have something easy,” Madara replied. “Would you like grilled fish as well?” 

“Yes!” Tobirama set down the last two blankets, then started to make a nest with the one he chose for himself. He paused when he heard Madara make a choking sound, and glanced up to see what was wrong. And Madara was looking at Ate, who was holding up the blanket Tobirama had left with him. Madara lifted Tobirama off of his blanket and picked it up to switch with Ate’s, much to Tobirama’s displeasure. “No, I can’t use that one! My legs will stick out!” 

“I’ll share mine then,” Madara said, voice strangled. He was laughing, Tobirama realized. Why, he wasn’t sure, but Madara was definitely laughing at him, so Tobirama pouted. 

“If your legs would stick out, it would barely make a lap blanket for me,” Ate grumbled, though he didn’t seem to actually care that much, now that he had a bigger blanket. Which he promptly used to cocoon his smaller companion. No matter how much she wiggled, and complained, Madara’s mother was soon trapped. 

“Jerk. Why do you have to have long gorilla arms?” With a little extra squirming, she was at least upright, and Tobirama had to admire the efficiency of using the blanket to tie her up like that. 

“Uchiha-san? What’s your name?” Tobirama asked, returning to his nest building with a much smaller blanket. 

“Hinayu,” she said, with a broad smile that even Tobirama could see. “It’s written as ‘Ice, Summer, Night,’ but that was the name the Uchiha gave me. I didn’t always have such an elegant name!” 

Madara groaned. “Kaachan... Please save that story for later.” 

Tobirama paused, thinking, then let out another long sigh. As much as he wanted to avoid the inevitable confrontation, he knew it was going to be necessary, sooner or later. “Madara? I should change back, shouldn’t I?” 

Madara was silent for a long moment, and Tobirama could _feel_ the way Hinayu and Ate were suddenly watching them more closely. “You’ll have to, eventually,” Madara replied, not looking at him. “It doesn’t have to be now, but... They’ll see you like that, eventually.” 

Tobirama sat in his blanket pile, staring hard at the embers in the hearth, until the kettle started to whistle in fits and starts. He had been thinking about how nice it would be to nap under the kotatsu like this, where he could fit his whole body beneath it without even trying. Adult him, he knew, would be resigned to the inevitable. Which _wasn’t fair_ for adult him, because that’s who had to _deal_ with things. 

It wasn’t upsetting enough to make him cry, but he did feel a bit downcast when he finally gave in, and got up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

Hinayu tried to say something, but was hushed - perhaps by Ate, perhaps by her son, Tobirama didn’t know. 

He usually would wait at least a day, between turning back and forth, but he didn’t think he wanted to be so young and vulnerable with people he didn’t know in his house. Normally, even a day meant that he had had time to truly relax into the mindset that came with the body. Today, that wasn’t the case, and he could already feel his stomach knotting up as he reached for the scroll he usually used for this. 

There were rules, he reminded himself. Rules that he set in place specifically for dealing with things like this, and that’s why he was turning back now. One rule was that work was always more important than taking this kind of time off. Another was that he needed to be an adult to keep an eye on strange developments. 

The downside was the chakra that it took. Tobirama wasn’t a powerhorse like Hashirama, or like Madara. Usually, he made up for the lack with control, which allowed him to use a multitude of techniques that the more powerful men would never have the fine control for. This particular technique, however, took both power and control. 

Using it a second time in the same day was going to leave him utterly _drained_. 

The seals activate quickly, once he gets past his reluctance and just _does it_. In either direction, the change feels _bizarre_. One way, it was like time and everything that came with it was rushing past him and fading into nonexistence, leaving him feeling small and vulnerable and oddly light. The other way, it’s similar, only everything _stayed_ , and physically he felt heavy and awkward, but mentally... 

Everything came back with a rush, filling in the details of his day out with the cynical perception of an adult. All the concerns he had as a child are multiplied, and he has to sit through it, and _breathe_ , until he can sort things back into their proper place. 

There was a tremble in his limbs that he wasn’t prepared for, and he had to wait through that too. Even knowing that he was going to be drained by this, it seemed that he underestimated how much. Hopefully, Hinayu wouldn’t attack him as soon as she realized who he was. That would be... an unpleasant way to ruin dinner. 

While he waited for his mind and body to settle, he watched the three chakras in the dining area. They hadn’t moved yet, and while Madara’s was more familiar to him, all three radiated some degree of concern. He doubted that Hinayu and Ate’s concern would last any longer than it took for them to catch a glimpse of him. 

In deference to how Madara often got whenever Tobirama suddenly showed more skin than usual, Tobirama put on one of his warmer yukatas and a soft pair of pants. He was tempted by the tabi, but if they ate at the irori, then he could sit close to the fire, and hope that removed the chill from more than just his toes. 

He slipped silently into the hall, lurking for a moment to get an idea of what was being said, before rejoining Madara and... his and Izuna’s mother, fuck. Tobirama wasn’t sure he could do this. 

“You’re going to regret that, any minute now,” Madara was saying, tone wry. 

“I know exactly who he looks like. He’s probably _that guy’s_ kid, right? I can handle that! I wouldn’t blame a kid for what their father did, Madara. I never really got that whole... thing... that the elders wanted.” Hinayu’s voice, now that he was listening with an adult’s ears, didn’t sound as youthful as her appearance seemed to indicate. “I didn’t start my years in the clan, and some things never stuck.” 

Madara made a frustrated sound. “And I’m saying, that it isn’t what you think it is! That isn’t ‘Tobirama’s kid,’ like you’re thinking.” 

Before the argument could continue, Tobirama stepped out, and said, “It _was me_.” 

There was silence, for all of a second, before Hinayu let out an indignant screech and tried to lunge at him. She was stopped by the blanket wrapped around her, and squirmed angrily on the floor for a moment. If it weren’t for the fact that she was Madara’s mother, Tobirama might have found it amusing. 

“That said, this is my house, and I’ve offered you hospitality. If my presence is too much, Madara’s house is currently unused.” His tone was cool and collected, all hints of weariness and strain hidden. 

She _chittered_ something that he was sure was full of explicatives, but he couldn’t understand a single word. Behind her, Ate was still and silent. Observing. There was nothing violent in the man, though Hinayu radiated rage in a way that felt... quite similar to her son, in some ways. In others... The room was growing colder. 

“Kaachan, calm down,” Madara snapped - and that couldn’t be good, but at least Madara was smart enough that he pulled out the rabbit to hug. “Hospitalis, kaachan!” 

Hinayu stilled, and the strange chill faded. She allowed Ate to pull her upright, but she still glared at Tobirama. 

He had known that this was going to be rough, but it seemed as though, for the second time that day, he underestimated something. Worse, he wasn’t sure of what to say in this situation. 

Unsurprisingly, he found himself doing what he often did while stressed. He set about making tea. 

Madara already had the kettle over the fire, but Tobirama had the peculiar urge to head for the gyokuro instead of the guricha. After the last go, there wasn’t much left, but at the moment, it seemed like the best choice. (If it weren’t prohibitively expensive, it would often be the best choice.) 

Mostly, he allowed Madara to explain things, and focused on the task at hand. Gyokuro required more care than guricha, so he let Madara’s voice wash over him, and got an uncomfortable look into what Madara’s life was like for the past four years. 

It chilled something inside of him to hear that the Uchiha as a whole were ignoring the signs of Madara’s gradual slide into insanity. Even more, it hurt to hear that Tobirama was the only one who even tried to do anything, even if he wasn’t kind about it. And the only company Madara had in that time, when he wasn’t working? Hashirama. 

_That would be enough to drive anyone insane,_ Tobirama thought. Hashirama meant well, but... he was really bad at picking up on the signs that someone was in acute distress. Signs that were obvious to anyone else. And for Tobirama to pick up on it... It seemed impossible that Madara’s clan members could have missed it. 

By the end of Madara’s lengthy speech, the gyokuro was in cups that Tobirama served to his guests, and Ate had tugged on Hinayu’s blanket to allow her to free her arms. She scowled into the cup, like it was insulting her bloodline, and took a suspicious sniff of it. Her eyes widened, and she sniffed it again, looking even more deeply insulted. 

Ate glanced at her, and there was a sheepish looking sag to his shoulders. “If this is good tea, you’re giving it to the wrong person. I’ve been told many times that I have no sense of taste.” 

Madara sighed, eying the teapot Tobirama used. “It’s the gyokuro again, isn’t it? If you’re going to get grumpy that no one appreciates it, you’re giving it to the wrong people.” 

Hinayu bristled. “Speak for yourselves, heathens! Some people can appreciate good tea, even when it comes from the enemy!” She sniffed it again. “It’s poisoned, isn’t it?” 

Tobirama blinked. Now _that_ was an insult. “If I were to poison someone, I would have used the guricha.” 

Her expression morphed from a scowl to an angry pout, though the lines of tension on her face faded when she took a sip. “You are a terrible person, bribing me with good tea..." 

He blinked again. “I’m not... bribing you. _I_ wanted it, and it would be rude not to give what I’m drinking to my guests.” That she liked it was only a fringe benefit as far as Tobirama was concerned. Though her words do remind him of certain customs that one should observe regarding mothers, and people long absent. A welcoming gift was probably in order, but he wasn’t sure of what would be appropriate in this case. 

She harrumphed, and Ate sipped his tea carefully next to her. “You’re wasting it on me and Madara, though,” he said. “Speaking of which. I think I would like to hear from you just how... just how you and Madara ended up staying together.” 

Hinayu was suddenly watching him closely again, and Madara let out a dismayed groan. Tobirama was left blinking. Again. “The very start of this is on Madara’s head, and I’m certain I can’t tell you what he was thinking at the time. Since then, he’s... slowly been moving in. Entirely of his own volition.” Tobirama couldn’t explain that, either, but little things of Madara’s were slowly starting to clutter up Tobirama’s living space. One of the bottles Madara worked on is displayed on top of one of Tobirama’s shelves, and Tobirama would be hard pressed to remember when it got there. “I haven’t protested.” 

“You don’t protest anything,” Madara muttered. He was drinking his tea slowly as well, as though trying to figure out what made gyokuro better than the other teas he’s had. “At least not when you really should. Not sure how you survived this long.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Hinayu, scowling again, and Tobirama shrugged. He understood, sort of, what Madara was getting at, but still didn’t see the problem. 

Madara only hunched his shoulders, and let his hair fall in front of his face in the way he often did when he didn’t want to talk. Or be seen. “It means he’s an idiot and doesn’t have good self preservation instincts.” 

Dinner was eaten in relative quiet, each of them chewing on new information, Tobirama included. Knowing that Madara had probably been touch starved put a whole new spin on that first time. It also made him feel guilty about the way Madara had caved to his demands at the very start of their relationship. 

After dinner, he showed his guests the spare room, and mentioned that if they were unwilling to share, he could make space in another room. As suspected, they preferred sharing. It didn’t seem like a romantic relationship either - if it was, he would judge Ate harshly, because even to his limited vision, Hinayu looked like a child. If anything, it seemed like he was her guard. 

Ate also seemed quite level headed, for looking so much like an Uzumaki - and he might even be one, for all Tobirama knew. Most Uzumaki he knew were... energetic. Loud. Opinionated. Perhaps once he was over the unfamiliarity of the situation, Ate would prove to be the same. 

By the time his guests were settled in, the exhausted tremor was back, and he barely had enough energy to light up the seals that would make him feel comfortable with their presence. Madara took over for him halfway through, standing with his arms around Tobirama, and chin resting on his shoulder. His hand followed Tobirama’s to each seal, and instead of letting Tobirama power it, he did it instead. 

It was... an oddly intimate experience. Then again, anything with Madara glued to his back like this became oddly intimate. If he was feeding the rabbit, and Madara came up and did this, Tobirama would still be driven to distraction. “Madara..." Gods, he wished he weren’t so tired. 

Even through the layers of cloth between them, he could feel Madara shiver. “Yes?” Tobirama let his head fall back against Madara’s shoulder, as he felt a warm hand slip up his belly. That had no right to feel so damned good. “Are any of these seals good for sounds?” 

“One way anti-vibration seal,” Tobirama said, taking Madara’s hand and placing it in the correct spot. “Wards the room. Keeps sounds from going out, but lets them come in. You could... literally slam me against the wall, and... there would be no damage, and... no one would hear anything, even if they were in the hall.” 

In a moment, Madara’s hands were back on his belly, and... gods, Tobirama was tempted to just let Madara keep going. The need to make a decision on the matter wasn’t eminent, though. Madara seemed content to let his hands roam, fingers occasionally digging in greedily. His breath on Tobirama’s collar was nearly as titillating. “I’m... very tempted, by the idea of... slamming you up against that wall.” 

The deep growl of Madara’s voice turned his knees to jelly, and he had to grip Madara’s arm to steady himself. Okay, apparently he really did need to make a decision. He _wanted_ but at the same time, he thought perhaps a warning was in order. “Just so you know, if you do that, I might not be able to... keep up. I... wouldn’t mind, but..." 

Madara’s hands stilled, but his grip tightened. “Wouldn’t mind?” 

Tobirama curled his hand around Madara’s. “I’m..." He stopped, thinking through what he meant to say. He was feeling sluggish enough that thoughts weren’t coming as clearly as they should. “...very tired. But I want..." He wanted enough that it was frustrating him, the way Madara was no longer moving. 

There was a puff of breath against his ear, and Madara asked, voice soft and demanding, “What do you want, Tobirama? ‘Wouldn’t mind’ doesn’t tell me that, and... I need to know that you actually _want_ this.” 

Frustration turned Tobirama’s own voice into a growl. “I do. I might pass out, and that’s _fine_ with me, as long as it doesn't bother _you_.” Madara’s fingers twitch beneath his, and Tobirama squirmed in his grip. “If you need me to put it more simply: I am very horny right now, and want whatever you’re willing to give. I would... very much like it if you’d fuck me.” 

This time, Madara’s breath came out on a deep groan, and he pulled Tobirama closer. “Gods damn it, Tobirama. You’re hell on my self-control, you know that?” 

Tobirama let out a breathless laugh. “Does that mean you’ll fuck me?” 

For some reason, that made Madara laugh as well. “I better not. I’ll have to think about that... the being fine with... passing out thing... because I’m... not sure how I feel about it.” The hand Tobirama held slipped down, until Madara was palming him, and Tobirama whimpered. “I think I can manage something else, though.” 

The sensation was dizzying, and it was a good thing that Madara was already supporting him. It wouldn’t do to slide to the floor just because Madara’s hand was warm and on him. “Hmmm... something else sounds good. I can..." Tobirama gasped, as Madara’s hand cupped him more fully. “I can appreciate your hands. H-hands are good.” 

Madara laughed again, nuzzling under his ear. “Come, let’s get you to bed..." 

In spite of his words, Madara took his time undressing them both, and Tobirama, tongue looser than usual, told him about the seal under his mattress - just like the one under the kotatsu, he used it to warm his bed - that he hadn’t been using because it was a good excuse to curl up close to Madara. He had once had a similar one underneath a traditional futon, though it had been an earlier work, and the futon caught fire one night, making Tobirama more wary of using such seals in a place where there was no open air. 

Madara had to pause in the middle of working Tobirama’s pants off, snickering against the small of his back. “Sometimes I wonder how you could be related to that brother of yours, and other times, you show me exactly how.” 

Tobirama swatted at him for the insult, but forgot his ire when Madara kissed his back. That was strange and pleasant, and it was followed by his pants sliding down. Without the expectation of going back out, Tobirama hadn’t bothered with more than that. Once his pants were pooled on the floor, Madara pushed him onto the bed, and followed him down, kissing up his spine, which was such a lovely sensation that Tobirama groaned into the bedding. The addition of teeth only made it better. “Madara..." 

Then there was the strange, tickling sensation of Madara’s hair, slipping down his sides and along his back. It tickled just enough to earn further squirming, no matter how much Tobirama liked it. More accurately, it _tingled_ , but it felt so good. And damn him, but Madara’s hands hadn’t yet made it past his hips, to where he wanted them. His own hands weren’t nearly as good for this. 

“Madara..!” He took one of Madara’s hands in his and dragged it around front, pressing it over his cock. It was a relief when Madara took him in a firm grip, but so very frustrating when that’s all he did. Then it got all the better, because Madara, just as naked as him, wrapped around him from behind. Even if he didn’t move, it felt wonderful. 

Madara hummed against his nape, though Tobirama felt it down his spine, and nibbled, earning a whimper. Tobirama’s attempts at encouraging movement were thwarted, and with Madara laying on top of him, bodily pinning him, all he could do was wiggle. If it were more than Madara’s weight holding him still, he would feel trapped. Even so... 

“Side,” he managed, nudging Madara with his elbow. “Roll over, I need to be able to move.” 

Madara didn’t even question it, just rolled them sideways, consequently trapping some of his hair, and immediately swearing. “Gods fuck, this is why I need to braid it first!” 

It didn’t completely ruin the mood, but Tobirama couldn’t stop himself from laughing. And as much as he wanted Madara’s hands to stay on him, now that it was pointed out, he thought that Madara’s hair was definitely in the way. He lifted himself up enough for Madara to pull it free, then turned to watch Madara braid it himself, with quick, efficient movements. It was going to look ridiculous once he was done, but at least it would be out of the way. 

The moment Madara’s arms weren’t blocking him, Tobirama reached out to pull Madara into a kiss, and Madara happily fell into it. As good as Madara felt against his back, this was better. He could wrap their legs together and rock against him, though it seemed that a lazy pace was the best he could manage. 

His eyes kept slipping closed, but with his arms wrapped around Madara, hands sliding up his back, it didn’t matter. And _Madara’s_ hands... Madara’s hands felt so very nice, gripping just beneath his ass. 

It was getting harder and harder to keep his mouth firm while kissing back, and the lazy grind of his hips was turning into something more like ‘sleepy.’ “S’good,” he murmured into Madara’s mouth, and shivered, moaning, when Madara’s hips rolled more firmly against his. “So good... mmmmhmm... Again!” 

Madara did, and Tobirama’s thighs clenched on one of Madara’s legs. The pleasure was almost too intense, for how fuzzy his brain felt. Madara swore softly. “Gods, you’re so..." With pleasure welling up into orgasm, the rest of Madara’s words were lost in a wash of white noise, then... nothing. 

* * *

Madara chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Tobirama had warned him, but he was still surprised. With a kiss to Tobirama’s lax mouth, he curled up close and leisurely finished himself off with his hand. 

There was a strange feeling in his chest, one he was leary of putting a name to, that was warm and tight and melting all at once. “Why are you so damned cute?” Of course, Tobirama couldn’t answer, because he was asleep, but Madara thought the question was perfectly valid. 

He shook his head again, and reached aimlessly for something to clean them off. What his hands found were his own pants, but it was hardly the only pair that had migrated into Tobirama’s room. In the middle of distractedly wiping at their mess - and sniggering a bit about the way it made Tobirama try to squirm unconsciously away - he realized, quite suddenly, that laundry was definitely a thing he probably needed to do soon. 

Then the weird, soft feeling increased exponentially when Tobirama rolled back around and reached for him. “Stop being cute,” he murmured, but Tobirama still didn’t hear him. 

* * *

As much as she didn’t like thinking about it, Hinayu would have thought that her mere presence would have kept her son from getting it up. Also, she did _not_ want to see morning after sex face on _Madara_ , her awkward baby! Not to mention that he kept looking at Tobirama with a smug expression that told her far too much. 

Ugh, and why did it have to be _Senju Tobirama_ of all people? Sure, he was pretty, in a strange, demonic sort of way. But he needed to get his hands out of Madara’s hair! Even if he was being rather brisk about brushing and braiding it, Madara looked far too pleased with it, and she wanted to yell, because _how dare he_..! 

But... Madara looked happy like that. 

So she swallowed down her anger, and did like Ate always admonished her to do, and _observed_. Tobirama was quiet, but far more touchy feely than rumor portrayed him. Rumor called him cold, and from what she’s seen so far, that wasn’t entirely accurate. Reserved was a better description. 

He let Madara make breakfast, a fond look on his face, but only when Madara insisted, saying that no one deserved to be subjected to Tobirama’s idea of breakfast. She wanted to be insulted over the idea of her son _had_ to do the cooking, but Madara _insisted_. Vehemently. Even when Tobirama suggested that he should be entertaining his mother. 

She didn’t want to like him, but... 

When he made tea, he apologized for not being able to offer last night’s bounty. Apparently, they had finished what he had. Instead, he made the guricha that Madara mentioned last night, and told her, “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t poison someone so early in the morning.” 

He had a sense of _humor_. It was awful, and she didn’t want to like it. 

“That’s just asking to be stuck covering it up all day.” 

The little fucker was hitting all her buttons! 

After breakfast, he cleaned up with brisk efficiency, and shooed her and Ate out of the house, alongside Madara. “I have an errand to run,” he said, and fluffed up the furry collar of his winter haori, before striding off into the snow. 

She immediately turned to Ate - not Madara, because Madara probably wouldn’t understand the nature of her complaint - and whined. “I don’t want to like him. He’s an asshole, and he has good taste in tea, and he makes stupid jokes. How am I supposed to deal with this?” 

Madara squawked, and she reached out and patted his arm. Ate sighed at her, and dropped a hand onto her head. “You could remember that it was _battle_ ,” he said. “Look at what Tobirama is now. I don’t see the monster you want to make him out to be.” 

Hinayu turned to scowl up at him - an expression that only grew more fierce as his hand fucked up her hair. “He _killed Izuna_. I have every right to hate him!” 

“And he would agree with you,” Madara interrupted, and she looked up and saw the tight expression on his face. “He would be the first to say it. At the same time... Ate is right. Izuna would have killed him, if he was fast enough. Also. Remember Yoshihiko?” 

She could feel the blood drain from her face. “Yes? Of course I do. Madara, that was...” 

“Tobirama volunteered himself to get mindfucked by that bastard, all because he got the impression that Yoshihiko hurt _me_. So. Think on that for a minute, would you? And I’ll tell you, he’s only been back from _successfully assassinating him_ for a couple of weeks.” Madara took a deep breath, and scrubbed his face with both palms. “Try and add that into what you see. Because... I look at him and see a selfless idiot.” 

Hinayu watched as Madara stomped off into snow just starting to drift down, and only barely managed to force her feet to follow. She felt hollowed out by those words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terms:
> 
> Hospitalis: The origin for many words, such as hotel, hospital and hospitality. In this particular instance, Madara is referring to the unspoken rules of hospitality.
> 
> Names:
> 
> Hinayu: like she said, it's written "氷夏夜" for "ice summer night"


	4. Stress Is a Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara has a lot to stress about. It’s nice to have someone around who can help him with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heheh. If the end seems a little rushed... I had a thing where I couldn't stay awake when I was meaning to finish the chapter. Whoops.

Madara was really glad to have his mother back. Truly. He was _happy_. He really was. But she was _judging_ , and... She couldn’t know what he had been dealing with. She barely met Tobirama and... 

And Ate was already on Madara’s side. Gods, that was strange. It wasn’t like Ate had time to adjust. And yet... 

“I’ve known for four years, Madara. Just because I haven’t been here, doesn’t mean I didn’t know what happened.” Ate kept his voice down, in deference to both the early hour and the fact that they were in public. Madara’s mother was a sullen shadow between them. “I may not know the specifics, but I can probably still tell you exactly what happened. One day he was faster than Izuna, or Izuna was slower than usual. It could have happened the other way, but it didn’t. That’s what war is.” 

Madara sighed, slumping. Because Ate was right. “Slower. Izuna was slower than he expected. He said... Izuna should have had time to react, but he didn’t.” Madara hated thinking of that particular conversation, but... at the same time, it was good, that he and Tobirama were able to speak so candidly, so emotionally. He reaches for the bag on his hip, to remind himself that Killer Jade was still there. With his gloves on, he can’t feel her soft fur, but she’s still warm, and that’s grounding. 

His mother stopped, and Madara had to turn to look at her. “Izuna was..? How do you even end up talking about something like that?” 

He grimaced, and lifted the bag up to that he could cuddle Killer Jade without taking her out of her warm bag. “Basically? Spill a bunch of stupidly emotional shit. That was when... That was... right after we talked about Yoshihiko. He... We talked about some equally shitty stuff that he dealt with, and somehow... sharingan related stuff came up.” 

Her eyes widened. “Sharingan stuff?” 

Madara deliberately turned back the way he was walking. “As clan head, I can chose to... read someone in on clan issues. Tobirama has... interesting insight that I can’t find in any of our texts.” 

“Read in?” asked Ate. He didn’t sound judgemental though. “And what was he able to tell you?” 

He held his tongue, for the moment, because he still didn’t know what Tobirama learned from Yoshihiko. He only knew that Tobirama felt that it was important to share. Thankfully, Ate didn’t prod him further, and let Madara go about introducing them to the village. His mother, on the other hand, wouldn’t stop asking questions. 

Perhaps he should have been prepared for that. 

At least he could say that he was actually on board with the village thing, _now_. Before his relationship with Tobirama, it was hard to see anything good in it. Now, however... People don’t avoid him like they once did. And the few that spoke to him before..? 

“Good morning, Madara-sama!” called a young voice. The shout was strangled at the end, as another young Uchiha dragged the offender away. There were a few who ignored the stigma that he had previously, and that particular young man didn’t seem to have a single care that Madara was known for being unstable. 

It was... nice. 

“Was that Kaien? He’s sure grown a lot,” his mother said, cocking her head. “If he keeps it up, he’s going to be as tall as you soon.” 

Madara waved a half-hearted acknowledgement in the young man’s direction. As much as he liked Kaien, the boy was often thoughtlessly over-enthusiastic. Not unlike Hashirama, though Kaien was less prone to fits. 

He wondered why it was that most of the people who treat him like a person are either like Hashirama, or somehow related to him. “Kaien is nearly full grown, kaachan. Of course, he won’t make it there if he continues to be so careless.” The way his friend managed to collar him was a clear enough indication of that. 

“And what exactly are we doing?” Ate asked, lengthening his stride until he was walking next to Madara. 

Madara sped up slightly. Ate made him feel short, and he wasn’t used to it. “My house. The elders. Stupid things that I’d rather not do, but someone needs to know that you’re back. If it’s not already..." He gestured vaguely, not even bothering to make it clear what he was gesturing at. “They probably already know. And I’ll just... light them on fire or something if they’re annoying about it.” 

There were other things he meant to do today, plans that he had made before finding out his mother was _here_. Now... Now he wasn’t sure if he should continue as he would have, or... concede that his plans needed changed. 

(And no, he won’t admit to himself that he changed his plans for Tiny Tobirama. It was a completely different situation. One is not randomly saddled with a tiny, cute version of their lover just any day. And Tobirama had the squishiest of cheeks. Which he will never actually mention to adult Tobirama.) 

Dealing with the _very important_ elders was _not_ how Madara wanted to spend the morning, but it was necessary. It being a necessity didn’t mean he didn’t want to throw Kōten - one of the elders, not deserving of any honorific at the moment - into a muddy snow drift. The man was one of the more obnoxious voices that decried Madara’s every damned decision. 

Thankfully, his voice didn’t hold too much weight. Yet. And with Madara’s mother back, it would hold even less. She got right in his face and chewed him a new asshole, not even knowing just how much of a thorn the man had been in Madara’s side. And Ate... good old Ate. _Ate_ stood there like a good bodyguard, looming behind his charge and glaring at the elder, as if the man would have the balls to talk back with him standing there like that. 

Madara still wanted to rip out his own hair, and he was glad when the reintroductions were over. 

Hinayu was muttering curses beneath her breath as she followed him to his next stop: the administrative building. He admitted to himself that he was a bit wary of introducing his mother to... well, anyone. But at the same time, he had been meaning to follow up on the therapist situation, and... He was planning on checking up on it today, if nothing else. 

Also, collecting paperwork. Because Hikaku was good, but he couldn’t expect the man to completely take his workload. It was fun (in a not fun way), herding his mother around the building like a really curious goat, when all he wanted was to reach Sora’s office and then _leave_. There was even the concern that she might eat something strange if he stopped paying attention to her for too long. 

Sora was face down on his desk when Madara finally managed to get to his office. 

Madara pursed his lips. That probably wasn’t a good sign, but he didn’t want to deal with whatever the cause was. “I can come back at another time, if you’re... busy communing or... whatever it is people are doing when they do that..." Behind him, his mother snickered. 

Sora’s head popped up, and while his expression wasn’t happy, it also wasn’t as bad as Madara expected. “Oh nice. It’s you.” 

Madara _had had_ a pleasant expression, but it was quickly usurped by a scowl. “Yeah, it’s me,” he agreed stiffly. 

“Oh for fucks sake, not like that.” Sora’s voice was louder than usual, and he waved a hand at Madara, seemingly inviting him in. “I’ve just... Today’s been... Is it something immediate? I’m having an unplanned crisis, and I don’t really have the... the energy to deal with anything big right now.” 

His shoulders relaxed from where they were starting to stiffen. “Just checking up on the therapist situation. Are you... okay? I know it’s weird, coming from me, but... Fuck. I’m allowed to be concerned too.” 

“It’s... I think I told you already that I managed to dig someone up?” Sora asked, a slight smile - not a happy one, but better than a minute ago - on his face. “I can introduce you tomorrow, if you have time. And... thanks for the concern, but... there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s just... unplanned things. Not really the kind of problem that matters much to other people.” 

Madara cocked his head at Sora, considering. “If you say so.” 

“Thanks for the offer,” Sora said and shrugged. “I... Oh. Right. Uhm. Who’s this with you?” 

“My mother, and Ate,” Madara replied, making a vague gesture over his shoulder. 

“Uchiha Hinayu,” his mother added, and Sora’s eyes went wide when they landed on her. He choked out a greeting that had her frowning. “What?” 

“Eh?! No-nothing. Just. I just remembered something I was told this morning.” His voice was growing uncannily shrill. “Ah. Not the sort of thing that should be repeated. Ever. Although I suddenly understand what Hashirama meant, and I have an old profile to... rewrite. For reasons. It’s ah, good to meet you. Madara, I’ll see you tomorrow. I... I’m not fit company right now, so please go? And maybe stop by and tell Tamotsu that I won’t be by later? I can’t... right now.” 

Agreeing, if only because it seemed like the right thing to do, Madara closed the door behind him on his way out. When he told Tamotsu what Sora had said, Tamotsu managed to ask if Sora was alright, ask who Hinayu was, and make yet another implication about his mother-in-law in under ten, really fast hand signs. 

“I have no idea; that’s my mother; and please leave me out of your family disputes.” 

Tamotsu’s face froze, and his eyes darted between Madara and Hinayu, then back, toward Ate. Another set of signs made dubious implications about Madara’s _father_ , Sora’s unknown ailment, and... that Ate should fight his mother-in-law. 

Madara slammed the door on the way out. 

“Madara..! I don’t know what he was saying! What dialect was that?” 

His mother was forced into a trot to keep up with him, while Ate just lengthened his stride. Hinayu was long used to keeping up with taller people who don’t think to remember her short legs. Her son was only one of many such people. “He’s being rude, is all,” Madara said, scowling. “I’m not repeating any of that bullshit.” 

Said bullshit put him in a foul mood, and he hadn’t been doing so good in that department _anyway_ , this morning. Breakfast had been fine, Tobirama working the night’s tangles out of his hair _was fine_. His mother’s questions weren’t. The way she stared at Killer Jade whenever he pulled the rabbit out for hugs also wasn’t fine. He couldn’t quite trust that she wouldn’t run off with the rabbit, given the opportunity. 

And that wasn’t even counting the burning need to tell her that she had no right to complain about his choices, because she _wasn’t there_. She wasn’t there when Izuna died, she wasn’t there when Madara’s clan slowly betrayed him. She wasn’t there when he was forced to join the village, a mockery of what he had wanted from life, without his brother at his side. 

She wasn’t there when Tobirama dragged him up out of the mire of his own mind, and forced him to confront it. She _had no right_ to complain! 

Gentling his touch for Killer Jade’s sake forced him to reign back his temper, and he gave the office flunky in charge of the mail a terse smile as he picked up and signed off on his share. He also had paperwork to collect, and then he would be done with this, at least, for the day. Hopefully he could keep his temper in check in the meantime. 

His mother’s voice trailed off, at a quiet word from Ate, but Madara couldn’t focus well enough to know what the man said. 

While he had thought to do shopping, he doubted that he could hold himself together well enough for that today. He was having a hard enough time holding himself together long enough to go through the paperwork and the mail, trying to determine order of importance. 

He barely noticed the way the lower ranks scattered in front of him - too many of them were far too aware of what he could do in a temper, and how sudden it could be - though Ate did. If Madara were to look, he would see the way Ate watched everyone, with a growing air of concern. Resentful over being hushed, Hinayu watched too. 

Somehow, they got out of the administrative building without incident. 

Immediately upon returning home, he ditched his mother (and Ate, who was being _quiet_ ), to “Do whatever, just don’t break anything,” and holed up in the guest bedroom with Killer Jade and the hawk, which still hadn’t quite recovered its flight feathers. The hawk stretched out its wing for him when he touched it, sensible where people weren’t, allowing him to examine it without fuss. 

Some days, animals are far more preferable company to people. Birds made sense when people didn’t, and Madara missed actually working with his clan’s hawks more regularly. This particular bird was a bit of an ass, and liked biting, but once it understood that Madara was helping it, it stopped biting. And usually did what he asked once it understood what he wanted. 

He fed it strips of meat that he brought back with him - Tobirama’s pantry was an amazing space, that Madara was afraid to dig too deeply into lest he find less savory things - and it made happy bird sounds, and stopped eyeing Killer Jade’s bag with a hungry glint in its eye. 

While fidgeting with the biwa again, Madara noticed a new chakra in the house, and let out a grating laugh. He wasn’t surprised that Hashirama snuck in at some point, and as long as he stayed where he was, Madara didn’t _care._ Let the idiot spy on his mom. Madara trusted, mostly, that Hashirama wouldn’t try to hurt them without cause. 

The strings sounded better than they did the last time, and Madara plucked out a hesitant tune, something that he heard a long time ago. A party, with lots of loud voices, and various instruments, and one lone biwa that sounded cheerful, yet apart. 

In this small room, with nothing but a hawk, a rabbit and a pipe fox sleeping in his collar for company, it sounded mournful. Lonely. 

Stupid, because he had no right to be lonely. He was angry, not ten minutes ago. Why the hell did his chest ache? 

Things were getting better, they had to be! His mother was back, and Ate, and Madara didn’t have to go back to that empty house. He already moved everything he needed _here_. Even the little shrine for Izuna was in this room. 

Long after Hashirama’s chakra faded back to hidden - the lapse was either an accident, or he was warning Madara of his presence - Tobirama returned, chakra feeling strangely brisk, like the snow outside. Madara continued plucking at the strings, but was no longer actually paying any mind to the tune that came out, as he analyzed the feeling. 

It wasn’t a bad thing, no. It was like whatever he had been up to had invigorated Tobirama, leaving him clear headed and needing to move. Tobirama dithered around the irori for a short time, near Ate and Hinayu, then headed down the hall, toward Madara. 

The tune sounded eerier, with Tobirama home, but Madara couldn’t quite make himself stop playing - the pattern was something he picked up with the sharingan, he realized. Stopping in the middle of a pattern wasn’t an easy thing to do, so he continued playing it. He curled protectively around the biwa, when Tobirama knocked lightly at the edge of the door, then slid it open when Madara didn’t protest. 

Tobirama stood in the entryway, head cocked and observing the changes Madara had made to the space, before stepping inside to sit next to Madara. The warmth of his shoulder cut through the chill of his clothes, and... that aching thing in Madara’s chest eased. It didn’t fade completely, but just this made it softer, less painful. 

The song trailed off, in both his memory and reality, and in the proceeding silence Madara slid off of Tobirama’s shoulder and into his lap. He couldn’t figure out quite what kind of look that was, that Tobirama was giving him, but it was _sappy_. 

Tobirama’s thighs were warm beneath his head, and Madara’s eyes fluttered closed when Tobirama smoothed his fingers across his forehead. It felt nice, and eked out some of the tension Madara was still carrying from earlier. Absently, he plucked at the biwa’s strings, earning a soft huff of amusement from his lover. 

Nimble fingers worked their way into his hair, and _that_ , that was so good that Madara found himself sighing, leaning into it like a cat. “Anything I can do?” Tobirama asked, voice soft, even for the small space. 

“You’re doing a remarkable job of calming me down, just by being yourself.” He didn’t know when _that_ started, Tobirama’s ability to soothe him with a touch, but Tobirama was abusing it now, scrubbing the tips of his fingers against Madara’s scalp. And that was utter bliss. One of the best forms of physical contact Madara’s had the pleasure of. 

While he could feel the way Tobirama leaned down, the feeling of lips pressing against his forehead was still a surprise. His eyes flickered open, to see that Tobirama’s eyes were half-lidded, a warm smile curling his lips. And then Tobirama kissed the tip of his nose. 

“You _sap_ ,” he started, but was cut off by Tobirama’s mouth against his. His mumbled protest was unintelligible, but it was half-hearted at best. At this point, Tobirama’s mouth was hardly unknown territory, but it was always pleasantly distracting. 

“Your lips are so soft,” Tobirama murmured, and Madara would protest that, but fingers curling into his hair make him gasp instead. “I wouldn’t have expected it, before. The way you yell, I would have thought they would be stiff, unrelenting, and yet..." He deepened the kiss, holding Madara in position with handfuls of hair. 

Madara groaned, one hand letting go of the biwa to fist in Tobirama’s hair. “Shitty timing,” he said, when Tobirama pulled back enough for him to speak. “Can’t just silence this room, and your _brother_ is here somewhere.” 

“We have all night,” Tobirama replied, pressing their lips together again. This time, it was brief. “Unfortunately, I have guests to feed, though it seems that they’ve been entertaining themselves well enough.” 

He coaxed Madara up, taking the biwa and gently setting it aside. Madara felt... more grounded, with Tobirama there, than he did earlier. He could let Killer Jade roam the house with Gouawae, as long as Tobirama was home. It felt silly, a little, getting lead out of the room like a child, but at the same time... It was a relief, knowing that he wouldn’t be confronting his mother again on his own. Or even mostly on his own, with Ate as a silent witness. (He didn’t like to consider what had been happening in their lives for the past few years, because the Ate he had known hadn’t been so quiet, nor so cautious.) 

Tobirama took over making dinner as soon as Madara tried to start it, sitting him down in front of the irori with a cup of tea to warm his hands. He was told to sit down and relax, and Tobirama would take care of things for the night. 

The tea was genmaicha. Which... shouldn’t be calming, because Madara _did not like it_ , and yet... It was a sign of teasing, which made him feel weirdly better about everything. 

Ate managed to look amused by the whole thing, while Hinayu’s eyes followed Tobirama with a suspicious scowl. _That_ wasn’t helpful, though Ate’s acceptance was. 

Tobirama set foil wrapped sweet potatoes onto a grill over the fire, alongside a heavy iron pan. “Sukiyaki,” he said - which was kind of obvious once the meat hit the pan, a hint of warmed sake already flavoring the air. Any kind of hotpot would be a touch on the lazy side, but it was reaching the time of year where hotpot was the go to dish. 

Madara determinedly reached out to help, even if it was just cutting up tofu to put on the grill, and Tobirama allowed it with a roll of the eyes. The thin slices of meat smelled delicious as they began to sizzle, and Madara felt his mouth begin to water. It’s always so hard to wait until the food is ready. 

Soon enough, he can smell the warm scent of the sweet potatoes, too, and he pokes impatiently at them, only to get his hands swatted away. Presumably for reaching into the fire. Then again, perhaps Tobirama thought he was actually going to pick one up and eat it as it was. 

Dinner remained quiet, if only due to Ate’s interference. Madara _did not_ want to know, not just yet, what she wanted to say, that Ate kept elbowing her over, every time she opened her mouth. 

After a day like this, it was a relief to finally be heading to bed - and, if he was lucky, a continuation of the teasing from earlier. He didn’t know why, but that twisting of his hair, and the way it felt on his scalp... It was a strange thing to get excited over, but he _liked_ it. He’s liked it in the past, too, but this time, it was _just_ that, and it still made his pulse sing. 

During a brief period when no one was looking his way, he gave his hair a surreptitious tug, curious to see if it would feel as good, and got an echo of the feeling. Only potential, but... Well. It certainly seemed to say something about his tastes that he got off on even mild pain. He still wasn’t thinking about the spanking thing, even if something deep down suggested that it would be a wonderful idea right now. 

Tobirama caught him, the next time he tried tugging at his hair. Madara tried to make the motion look like anything other than what it was, but he could tell that Tobirama wasn’t buying it. Not with the way he covered up a smirk, and returned to his nightly routine. 

Well. That was embarrassing. 

It didn’t stop Madara from doing it again, because it was _strange_. One of those things about himself that he didn’t understand. The feeling wasn’t quite as good when it was his own hand, but he still had an undeniable reaction. He just had to yank harder to get it. 

“If you didn’t seem so embarrassed that I caught you at it, I would think you were hinting at something,” Tobirama finally said, wrapping his arms around him from behind. There was a confusing moment where Tobirama tried to use his chin to push Madara’s hair to the side, before he laughed softly, and used a hand to push the mass away from his face. “If you want something in particular, I do take suggestions...” 

“S-suggestions?” Madara didn’t have those. If he did, they would be utterly filthy and unspeakable. Spanking _might_ feature. If not that, more of the hair pulling thing. Definitely fucking. “At this point, almost anything ending with an orgasm would do.” 

“That’s rather open ended of you,” Tobirama murmured, breath warm against his ear. Madara’s skin tightened at the feeling of fingers sliding against the skin of his belly, and he had no idea how Tobirama managed to get through his clothes without his notice. There was a thread of incredulous amusement in Tobirama’s next words: “Why are you still dressed? 

Not about to admit that he had been dithering over thoughts of getting his hair pulled - which was exactly what he had been doing - Madara instead made quick work of his outer layers, felt Tobirama move back just enough for them to slide to the floor. Then there was nothing between them but the han juban Madara typically wore beneath his robes and fundoshi, both of which he would happily divest himself of once he got over the warm sensation of Tobirama pressed against his back. “Wasn’t thinking.” 

Those lovely nimble fingers were taking over the task for him, Tobirama humming in a thoughtful tone. “You’re still tense.” 

“Of course I’m tense!” Though he deliberately avoided thoughts of _why_ he was tense. The day had been too full of stressors, and he didn’t want to confront them, not just now. “I don’t _want to be tense_!” Not when being tense made him prone to lashing out, and gods, he didn’t want his mother to see that. 

There was another humming sound against his back. “I can think of a few things that might help...” Tobirama stepped back, and the rest of Madara’s clothes dropped until the only thing holding the han juban up was the position of his arms. The air on his back, even when his hair fell back into place, was _cold_. “Come to bed with me, and I’ll see what I can do.” 

When he turned, Tobirama was already settling on the bed, stark naked, and patting the bedding next to him invitingly. “I’m not an animal,” he protested, but plopped down next to Tobirama anyway, ignoring his lover’s snicker. “So. What do you plan to do with me?” 

“Lay on your belly and let me get your hair out of the way, first.” 

Madara complied easily, not wanting his hair caught beneath them again. One time was more than enough. 

Tobirama straddled his ass - which, on its own, felt quite nice - and took care of his hair. And honestly, that had quickly become one of his favorite things with their relationship, the way Tobirama treated his hair. His patience was amazing, and instead of it hurting - not the same as the sweeter ache that came with hair pulling, the way a brush pulled on his hair was annoying at best - it was all rhythmic tugging, eventually culminating with the brush scraping his scalp just. so. Gods it felt good. 

The way Tobirama braided it was more brisk, and it was over with disappointingly quickly. The braid was tossed aside, landing next to Madara’s head. Then Tobirama shifted, and his hands were digging into Madara’s back, hard enough that it hurt. Madara grit his teeth through the initial onslaught. He knew what Tobirama was doing. Soon, it would feel good. “You need to relax,” Tobirama told him. “Consciously. Give me something to work with.” 

Shinobi or not, relaxing on cue has never been one of Madara’s strong points. He could _look_ relaxed, but it really wasn’t the same thing. And even such clever fingers digging into the knots along his spine only made him want to tense further. 

There was a soft murmur above him - “Idiot.” - before Tobirama changed tactics, and instead pressed in, dragging his hands down Madara’s back, slicked with lotion that was already warmed by his hands. Madara groaned, and Tobirama shifted direction, and did it again. “Better?” 

“Nngh!” Tobirama laughed, obviously taking that as a “yes,” and put his weight into the next sweep of his hands. Pressure and warmth slowly forced Madara’s back to relax, and before long, Tobirama was back to his original tactic. This time, Madara was relaxed enough that it actually helped. 

It still ached, but now it was more like the ache of his hair being pulled, something sweet that made him moan and squirm, and be grateful for the firmness of the bed beneath him, because he can’t help but rock his hips against it. He wasn’t quite sure when Tobirama’s touch changed from sensual to sexual, but when he moved back, weight resting on Madara’s thighs so that he could grip his ass... Madara was starting to get impatient, and rocking wasn’t good enough anymore. 

“Tobirama..!” His voice cut off on a strangled sound, because Tobirama’s fingers were exactly where he wanted them, rubbing slow circles. But to his frustration, Tobirama’s weight kept him from moving his legs apart like he wanted to. “In, damnit, I want you to..!” He cut himself off again, this time with a breathy groan. 

“You want me too..?” Tobirama asked, dipping one finger in and out, cruelly slow. His other hand clenched and unclenched rhythmically on Madara’s ass. 

His thighs being pinned like this made it hard to rock into the motion, too. He whimpered in frustration at the realization. “Fuck me, please, this is too... it’s not enough, I need, I need more just..." 

“Patience,” Tobirama said, like he wasn’t just as impatient when he was the one on his belly. When Madara moved, preparing to buck him off - he wanted something _quicker_ , damnit! - Tobirama slapped his ass with his free hand, and Madara froze, heat suffusing his face and shoulders. “Patience,” Tobirama repeated. 

“Harder,” Madara growled, and gasped at a second smack. “That’s not what I..!” And jerked at a third. “T-tobirama..!” His breath escaped on a whine, and he was torn on whether or not he wanted to provoke more or not. Without thought, he found himself wiggling from side to side, trying to do just that. 

Tobirama laughed, free hand rubbing out the sting. “I should have thought of that.” He pushed his fingers deeper before another spank, and Madara had to bite the bedding to keep from shouting. 

_Why the fuck_ was that so damned good? “Gods fuck, Tobirama..!” And he could only claw at the bedding because he still couldn’t move well enough to _make_ Tobirama move! “M-more, damnit, I... fuck!” Several smacks in quick succession, and Tobirama’s other hand finally started _moving_. All Madara could do at that point was keen, and rock into it, the bare amount he could. 

Behind him, Tobirama swore, and lifted just a little of his weight from Madara’s legs. And when he twisted his fingers, suddenly Madara _could_ move, and... Another hard smack, and he could distantly hear his own voice chanting pleas and curses, as he bucked. One hand tried to hold his hips steady, while the other... 

“Oh gods, fuck, Tobirama please, fuck, I need, I need... nnngh..!” Gods, that other hand. Tobirama’s fingers... gods, when did he add fingers? He thought it was only one? They press deep and hard, and Madara couldn’t help but buck against them again, and... “T...Tobira... gods, I..!” He trailed off into another desperate whine, unable to drag together the words he needed. 

A bite, at the base of his spine, was what undid him. Sharp, unexpected pain made his entire body jerk, and gods those fingers. He clenched around them, gasping out disjointed praise, as he came. A moment of time was lost, and when he blinked aware again, he could still feel Tobirama’s hands on him. Both of them, gripping his ass tightly, thumbs stroking occasionally. Tobirama was near silent... breathing fractured, but otherwise noiseless. 

Those warm hands slid up his back after a moment, rubbing like a continuation of the earlier massage. Madara... couldn’t tell where this was going, but... that was alright. Whatever Tobirama’s thinking, it could only be good, at this point. A soft groan slipped out of him, as Tobirama’s body followed his hands, until he was draped along Madara’s back. 

Lips pressed against his shoulder, and Madara let his head fall to the side, so he could see Tobirama’s silvery hair. The tug of fingers against his sides felt greedy, but not immediate. Like the way Tobirama’s cock bumped against his ass. “Would you like to try for another?” Tobirama asked, nuzzling under Madara’s ear. 

Madara wouldn’t have thought so, but the very thought sent a shiver down his spine. He wanted it. “Yah. Yes. Fuck yes. Gods, you..." It should be embarrassing, how his body reacted to just thinking about getting fucked right now. “I said, ‘Fuck me’, didn’t I?” 

Tobirama’s deep chuckle vibrated against his back, and those clever hands were dragging their way back down Madara’s sides, making his skin crawl in the best way. “You did.” 

Tobirama nudged his legs apart, tugged on Madara’s hips until he was positioned just right, Madara moving easily with each adjustment. He slipped right in, no further preparation needed, and Madara whined against his forearm. 

“One more thing,” Tobirama murmured, voice low and husky. Tobirama’s hand was stark and pale against the dark of his braid, and Madara watched those damned clever fingers wrap it around themselves. He had just enough time for his eyes to flare wide before Tobirama yanked, dragging his head back. Tobirama’s voice was just barely audible over his own shocked whine. “There we are..." 

He wasn’t allowed time to adjust. Tobirama immediately set a hard pace and didn’t let up, not even when Madara’s whimpers turned to sharp cries. He was just starting to rock into it when Tobirama finally spanked him again. And again. And again, until Madara could barely even cry out anymore. He still had his voice, but he barely knew what he was saying anymore. “Tobi, Tobirama, I, fuck I... Gods, I need just, just, please..!” 

As though he understood, Tobirama wrapped himself around him, hand hot from smacking his ass, to grip his cock. It only took three strokes. Three strokes, and he came so hard that he passed out. 

If it wasn’t so satisfying, it would be _embarrassing_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terms:
> 
> Han juban: A type of underclothes. Specifically, a white under kimono with narrow sleeves, that’s meant to keep the outer layers clean of sweat and body odors, so that the outer layers need cleaning less often.
> 
> Panhypopituitarism (even though I don’t use the word in the fic, and not sure if I ever will): Madara’s mom has a form of this, but was lucky in that she’s otherwise quite healthy. “When all pituitary hormone production is deficient or decreased, the term **Panhypopituitarism** is used.” There are other problems, but the most obvious is, in her case, a childlike stature.
> 
> Names:
> 
> Kōten: means “High Heaven,” spelled “高天”  
> Kaien: means “Sea Swallow,” spelled “海燕"


	5. Tobirama Has Hobbies Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes are good for growth. Madara’s day starts out wonderfully. Tobirama’s could use some work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have my first delay. Due to rl reasons, updates will probably be little slower for a while, and I’ll occasionally skip a week or more. I’ll let you all know when I’m feeling up to updating faster again.

Hinayu hadn’t thought that it could get worse than yesterday, with Madara’s smug face and the way it was oh so obvious that he had sex. With her in the same house as him, no less. Today, however, Tobirama was the one radiating smugness, and Madara looked like someone - Tobirama, gods, why? - replaced his bones with noodles. 

She thought it was great that her son could get laid. If it were anyone but Tobirama that he was doing it with, she would absolutely be cheering him on. He certainly could use the help to relax. It was harder to accept that he was doing it near her... and how the hell hadn’t she _heard_ anything? 

That was highly suspicious. No one got that relaxed without actual screaming involved. She damned well should have heard something. 

“Is it alright for the rabbit to run loose at night?” The question was quiet, almost musing, as though Ate didn’t particularly care about the answer. Hinayu’s head popped up, because she hadn’t seen the rabbit away from Madara even once so far. 

“It’s fine,” Tobirama said, nursing a cup of tea around bouts of smugness. Next to him, Madara let out an agreeable hum, and Tobirama smiled - if he were anyone else, she would call the expression _sappy_. “It’s better for Killer Jade to get out her energy at night.” 

“Ah,” Ate said. He was also nursing his tea, but Hinayu couldn’t blame him. It was pretty chilly, even sitting next to the irori as they were. “And... are you aware that you have an infestation?” 

“An infestation?” Tobirama arched an eyebrow. 

“There was a pipe fox on the rabbit.” Ate still didn’t sound concerned, and Tobirama certainly didn’t look it. Hinayu was feeling mild alarm, though, knowing what happens when too many pipe foxes are gathered in one space. 

“That would have been Gouawae, and as long as it doesn’t overeat, it’s not a problem,” Tobirama replied. “It spends most of its time in Madara’s collar, so there’s that.” 

Then again, pipe foxes probably make great pets, she mused. “Where is it now?” she asked. Madara tapped his shoulder and what looked like an orange, fuzzy snake peered out of his collar. It blinked at her with limpid golden brown eyes, and then waved a tiny black paw at her. It was so tiny, and cute! 

Much to her disappointment, the pipe fox slithered back down into Madara’s collar after a moment. “Gouawae is sleepy,” came a tiny voice. “Gouawae will be ready if Madara-sama needs Gouawae.” 

Hinayu squeaked. “I need one,” she said, bouncing in place. Honestly, something cute to play with would be wonderful. And pipe foxes were super cute! 

“Yeah, no,” said Ate. “I wouldn’t trust you with the clan’s ninneko. Why would Madara trust you with a pipe fox?” 

“Why is everyone insulting me today?” 

“Only one person insulted you today, and that’s me,” Ate replied, rolling his eyes at her. “Now eat your breakfast!” 

Hinayu’s eyes dropped back to her ‘breakfast,’ which she wanted to blame Tobirama for, but she watched Madara make it. And consistently forget that he was making it. Madara tried to pretend he wasn’t distracted, but how does one burn _miso_? 

They had fish too, but it was _crunchy_. Far crunchier than it should be. The only thing that approached normal was the rice and the pickled vegetables arranged with it. And since the rice was cold, it was obviously not cooked today. 

As they finished up, Tobirama made a quiet suggestion to Madara that made her son light up, and he muttered cheerfully about it having been too long since he had a good spar anyway, as they cleaned up. Halfway through, Madara paused, as though his brain suddenly decided to work again. “And what will you be doing?” 

“Research with Mito,” Tobirama replied. “Is she responsible enough to be a good babysitter?” 

Madara conceded after a moment, looking stumped. 

Not long later, she and Ate were again herded from the house and sent to meet up with Hikaku to be registered with the clan as shinobi of Konoha. They had a fun day ahead of them. She was going to have to explain Ate’s role in the clan to first Hikaku, then to whatever official type they ended up working with. Even Tajima, the stubborn goat, understood that Ate could never be officially affiliated with the clan after a thorough explanation. It was always lovely to see Ate explain such things, in ever so small words. 

(Then always came the other kind of explanation, and she’s looking forward to that, too.) 

* * *

Madara was having an _excellent_ day. He woke up feeling _amazing_ and relaxed, and no one said anything weird over breakfast. And while he had to leave Killer Jade and Gouawae some distance from his and Hashirama’s sparing area, he found that, at the moment, he didn’t actually need them close. 

Getting to grind Hashirama’s face into the dirt was better than he had words for. It served the idiot right for gawping at him like that. Even if Hashirama had to make it easy, Madara still took it as a win. Afterwards, he stopped back at home to wash up, then went to hunt Sora down. There would be no better time to meet this therapist Sora found. 

Sora looked a touch better than yesterday, but still moved like he would rather be doing anything but. “Fair warning, she’s pretty damned old, and she acts like she’s about to croak. But she’s been saying the same damned things since she ‘retired’ five years ago, and I haven’t seen any sign that she’s actually slowing down.” 

Just that made this therapist sound interesting. For all Madara had been willing to meet her, now he _wanted_ to. “Does my therapist have a name?” he asked, as they reached the Yamanaka compound. 

“Fuon,” Sora said, and they rounded a corner to find a comfortable looking little house. Sora led Madara around the side of the house. “She’ll be in the garden, I think.” 

There was someone in the back garden, but at first glance, Madara couldn’t see them. At second glance, he couldn’t help but recall Sora’s comment from the day before. “Couldn’t you have finished digging her up?” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be a joke,” Sora groaned, slapping his hands over his face. “It was an idiom! Gods, Fuon-baachan, why are you doing this?” 

The head in the ground angled up to look at them. Her face was withered with age, but she looked kind, if one were to ignore that she was buried up to her chin in the dirt. “Hmm? Ah, it’s little Sora. I was just getting a feel for, you know, after.” She blinked up at them. “It’s surprisingly comfortable. The chill hasn’t sunk deep into the ground yet.” 

Despite all expectations, Madara already liked her. Ignoring Sora’s mutterings - “Why are you like this?” - he asked, “Do you need a hand out, or... Do you want to stay like that?” 

“Mmm. I think I can manage. Sweet of you to offer, though.” With a sigh, the ground shifted around her, and she walked out, like it was nothing. Once she was free, she had dirt to shake loose, though. “Oop. Heh. Just when I thought it would be perfect, I get dirt in my unmentionables.” 

“Sora didn’t mention what kind of training you have,” Madara said, suddenly... not nervous, but he felt awkward, and clutching at Killer Jade was the thing to do. 

“Training?” Rheumy eyes blinked at him. “Well. When I was young, I practiced my clan’s usual techniques. Then I learned iryo-ninjutsu. You know, it really changes your perspective, learning to heal. I spent some years as a bikuni, as well. Fully ordained, but... I wished to spend my twilight years with my clan. I’ve learned much about the mind, the body and the soul over the years, and now young Sora is asking me to help you.” 

“Bikuni..?” She was part of a monastery? After living a full life as a shinobi, it sounded like. That was _respectable_. “...not sure what can be done about me...” He paused, because her eyes seemed suddenly sharper. 

“That isn’t for you to worry about,” she said. “You two, come inside, and we can talk about what to expect in the coming months.” 

* * *

Tobirama was face down against a work table, when Hashirama and Madara showed up. Nearby, Mito smiled at them in her transformed state, and greeted them with a soft, yet still somehow booming “Boof.” 

Tobirama didn’t bother to lift his head as his brother made the usual excited exclamations, and Madara asked, “Why do you have a Ovcharka? These dogs are not native.” 

Hashirama sounded gleeful. “Oh, you know what she is? We’ve been trying to figure that out!” 

“Oh great, you have a dog that... Tobirama, please tell me this isn’t you being stupid? And I thought Mito was supposed to be watching you..?” Madara trailed off when the dog nosed at him. 

“I am watching him,” Mito said, then boofed cheerfully when Madara jerked away from her. 

“What the fuck even?” Madara yelped, and without even looking, Tobirama could sense him activating his sharingan. His voice reached an interesting pitch when he discovered that, nope, it wasn’t an illusion. “What the..?! Do you just. Have weird transformation techniques just. Laying around? What the fuck, Tobirama?!” 

Although it _was_ interesting, Tobirama had to reach up and cover his ears, which were _far_ more sensitive than usual. After all, he tried the seal on himself as well, and much to his annoyance, it _failed_ , yet again, to complete the job. Leaving him with... a partial transformation that thankfully Madara didn’t seem to have noticed yet. 

“I don’t have them laying around. I’m _making them_ , because I want to have... an ability to change, if I need to.” He even has a third one, though he knows that Madara knows about that one. After all, Tobirama figured that one out as a teenager, then promptly used it in battle. On Izuna. Which... made for an interesting year. 

Madara was silent for a moment, but Tobirama still didn’t look up. He didn’t need to see Madara to know what Madara was doing - walking around the table to approach Tobirama, which no, no, he hated this. Now he wanted to sink through the table, through the floor, because he didn’t want Madara to see him like this. For some reason henge never worked when he was in this strange halfway form. Even if it did, Madara would be able to see right through it. 

He cringed when Madara stopped. Hashirama and Mito’s eyes were watching them sharply - again, he didn’t need to look to know. He could _feel it_. The slide of warmed leather against his hand, as Madara’s wrapped around it, tugging it away and let one of Tobirama’s ears - soft, furred, _sensitive_ to both sound and touch, _fox ears_ \- free. 

Madara’s voice was much quieter, closer to the soft rumble he used in the bedroom, when he asked, “Didn’t do this on purpose, did you?” 

The ear flicked back, expressive in a way that Tobirama rarely allowed himself to be - unless angry, because he never could quite control the urge to yell at idiots. “This. This is _always what happens_ ,” Tobirama groaned, finally lifting his head slightly. “It works on everyone else, but as for myself, it’s like _this_.” 

Madara’s hand dropped his, and as Tobirama watched, he brought the glove up to his mouth and pulled it off with his teeth, which... did interesting things to Tobirama’s hormones. Then his bare hand skimmed up through the back of Tobirama’s hair, to scratch at the base of his ear. And holy fuck, but now he realized why animals react the way the do when getting scratched like that. He could feel his eyes rolling back, as all sense of focus fled. 

Distantly, he could hear Hashirama laughing at them, and somehow managed the words, “Fuck off.” 

“So. Other than the Ovcharka that Mito is... It’s obviously not turning you into the same sort of creature, so what, exactly, is supposed to happen?” 

Tobirama heard the words just fine, but he couldn’t make his brain act on them. Not while Madara continued to scratch, and especially not when he moved his hand around to work on the other ear. The tails that were making sitting awkward tried to move in something that might have been a wag. Which was even weirder feeling in a chair. 

Fortunately, Mito took up the explanation. “Spirit animals. For me, it’s... well, since we didn’t recognize the breed of dog, Hashirama dubbed it as a ‘boof’. For Tobirama, it should be a fox, though he never gets the full transformation. Usually just the ears and... tail, though there’s often more than one. Sometimes it will change his feet and give him claws as well, depending on what changes he has last made to the seal.” 

“Feet stayed normal this time,” Tobirama muttered, tilting his head into Madara’s hand. That was as good as sex. Nearly. Probably. 

“Huh. Tails,” Madara sounded dubious, but kept scratching, so Tobirama hardly cared. “How do you even find out your spirit animal anyway? Most processes I know of are kind of... They take a while.” 

“Well,” said Mito, and _she_ sounded like mischief. Tobirama found himself more than a little concerned, but unwilling to move away from Madara’s fingers to stop whatever she was planning. “You could try the seal yourself. That would show you what you are.” 

Hashirama let out a nervous laugh. “Except you might be something big, and end up squashing us all, and probably destroying Tobirama’s lab. I’m betting it’s something small though. Something with aggressive body language.” 

“Jutsu for the mirror,” Tobirama managed, by now leaning heavily into Madara’s talented hands. “There’s a... You can use it and just look..." 

“Oh really?” said Madara, and his chest was right next to Tobirama’s head, so he could feel the way Madara held back a laugh. “What kind of jutsu is it?” 

“An illusion, sort of,” Hashirama replied. “I can show you that, and there’s even a mirror over here..!” 

Then Madara’s hands were pulling away and Tobirama shocked himself with the near desperate whine that slipped out. There was a suspicious sound, not unlike Mito giggling, from near the floor, and behind him, Madara coughed. “Uhm. Well. That’s uh... something to consider later.” 

Heat suffused his face, and Tobirama collapsed forward against the table again. It was one thing to make sounds like that with a wall between them, but _Hashirama was right there_. Tobirama wasn’t usually that easily embarrassed, but that sound... he’s heard that sound in his own throat before. Generally in the bedroom. With Madara. 

If only the floor had enough sentience to swallow him whole right now, then he wouldn’t have to live with this kind of mortification. That was the most embarrassing thing that’s come out of his mouth in possibly years. 

(If he could see the others, he would mostly see the way Hashirama’s expression suggested that he was dying inside. Madara, on the other hand, while blushing, had a look that spoke more of _interest_. Madara may or may not be planning something. There was certainly a gleam in his eyes that suggested he might be.) 

Now that he could think again, Tobirama could show Madara the jutsu. And he would, if only to prevent Hashirama from intentionally giving Madara some kind of strange prank jutsu instead. He just needed to lift his burning face from the table again. 

He couldn’t quite do it, and had to instead suffer through listening to Hashirama as he walked Madara through it. There was no outer effect - the jutsu only worked with reflections, and technically was a type of genjutsu. It had taken quite a bit of work to perfect, and hearing Hashirama mangle the explanation of what it did made Tobirama _cringe_. 

Not that he got it _wrong_ , but he worded it in such a painfully stupid way. 

There was a surge of chakra as Madara tried it, and then Madara barked out a surprised laugh. Hashirama just sounded confused. “What... some kind of badger then? I mean, I guess that makes sense. You’re grumpy and probably would like to sit in a hole all day too.” 

“Honey badger,” Madara said. There was a thread of baffled amusement in both his voice and chakra. “Mitsu anaguma. Ratel. They have a lot of names. If you don’t surprise them, they’re pretty calm, but one of my clan members was savaged pretty badly by one he stepped on while it was napping... The main reason I even know what it is.” 

Tobirama stood, one tail sliding the chair back as he did so. “Mito. Time to turn back. I’m not letting you or anija out as animals today.” Hashirama groaned, and tried to protest, but Mito walked over to the seal - radiating pathetic like only a large dog could - and paused, staring at him as though hoping he would change his mind. “I meant what I said. Do it, and go. I want to finish sorting this out without worrying about whatever shenanigans you’re getting up to!” 

He didn’t shoo away Madara, if only because once they were alone, he wanted a damned hug. Several “good nights” later, Hashirama finally left, Mito following behind - her usual impeccable self. Mito kept giving him knowing looks, which _was annoying_ when he didn’t know what she knew. 

Lately, Madara seemed to have developed a sixth sense for when Tobirama needed touch - it didn’t _have_ to be a hug, that’s just what Tobirama wanted _now_ \- and would, as soon as it was appropriate, just... wrap around him. Madara’s hugs were indescribable. He could use all the words that came to him, and never quite be able to describe how warm and comforting they were, how the only real option he had upon receiving one was to melt into it. 

Madara didn’t hug much at first, which Tobirama thought was a shame, but now that he was growing more confident in their relationship? Hugs were more and more common as long as they were alone. 

Madara’s hand was warm, smoothing up and down his back. It only made him melt closer, burying his face into Madara’s collar and smelling the scents of the day on him: upturned earth and fire and tea, a hint of sake and an unfamiliar perfume - perhaps Madara met his therapist today? 

He murmured something pleased into Madara’s shoulder, only to stop at the feeling of one of those warm hands sliding down onto his butt. “Really, Madara?” 

Madara chuckled, unashamed. “I’m curious. The ears are soft, so why wouldn’t the tails be?” 

Tobirama grumbled at him, but could concede the point. He hadn’t explored the changes too much, himself. At least, not in the manner Madara managed. Because he definitely wouldn’t have thought to dig in his fingers at the base of the tails, and... The noise that came out didn’t sound human in the slightest. Tobirama’s knees turned to jelly, and he had to clutch at Madara to avoid a quick slide to the floor. 

Those hands - gods, why did this man have such talented hands - reached down, gripped beneath his ass and tugged Tobirama upward. Automatically, his legs wrapped around Madara’s hips. “Good?” Madara purred, walking backward until he bumped into the table. Tobirama had to shift his legs again, to let Madara sit, and was pleased to end up properly in his lap. 

“Nngh-yeaah, good,” Tobirama replied... and promptly lost his ability to speak when Madara started nibbling on his _ear_. Strange breathy sounds, somewhere between whining and purring, built up in his throat as he tried to process the sensation. His brain completely shut down when Madara’s fingers went back to the base of his tail, digging in and stroking hard. 

When Madara let up enough for him to think again, he found himself mindlessly grinding against Madara’s belly, thwarted by all the layers of cloth between them. His fingers were hooked like claws in Madara’s hair. Little twinges of pain in the creases of his fingers spoke of how hard he must have been pulling, but Madara was only crooning soft encouragement into his ear. 

Even that soft tickle, Madara’s breath and his voice, sent frissions of pleasure down his spine. “Again,” Tobirama panted, because gods, he thought he could get off on that. He was shaking, but right now, all he wanted was more. 

Madara chuckled again, and the hairs in Tobirama’s ears tingled and he could feel his ears twitch at the sensation. “Like this?” Madara asked, and thought fled again, as warm lips closed over the edge of his ear, and Madara’s hands... gods those hands. Tobirama would never, before this, have realized that any part of his spine could be so damned sensitive. 

He writhed in Madara’s hold, whimpering. It felt _good_ but gods, it was nearly too much for him to take. And his _ear_. What should have been mere titillation, wet warmth, with just a hint of sharpness, had him begging wordlessly, because he couldn’t think past his need for more. 

It was all Madara could do to keep hold of him. 

He tried to encourage Tobirama’s undulating body down, to press more firmly against his hips, but Tobirama wouldn’t _stay_. It was _inspiring_ , and Madara couldn’t help but use his Sharingan for this. To be able to remember, forever, just how _easy_ it was, to take Tobirama apart like this... 

He hardly needed pressure on his cock to enjoy this. It would be so good, but proximity alone was more than enough. With a particularly sharp cry, Tobirama jerked his ear from Madara’s mouth. Almost immediately, words came back to Tobirama, in a babbling rush of pleas and sweet demands. 

“Madara, Madara, gods, just please, I need, gods I need you, please..!” For all it was mostly nonsensical, the words burned in Madara’s gut, and he dragged Tobirama down again, more firmly. “Yes, yesyes, like that, gods, Madara,” Tobirama panted, nuzzling frantically at Madara’s jaw. “That’s good, that’s it, harder harder harder, please..!” 

Madara couldn’t help the rough sound in his own throat, or the way his hips rocked up to meet Tobirama’s. Harder, harder would be good. The hand still digging into the base of Tobirama’s spine, roughly rubbing the base of those tails, was in the perfect position to press Tobirama closer. 

Tobirama clawed at him, body jerking in his hold and voice rising sharply. “Madara! Fuck. I. Nnngh! Godsdamnit, need you..!” 

Tobirama’s thighs clenched around him, warm and tight. Frustrating the both of them by making it that much harder to get the friction they both wanted. Gods, and their clothes were in the way _again_! He really should have planned ahead, but to be fair, he hadn’t expected this strong of a response to his - initially - teasing explorations. 

It took a moment for Tobirama to relax enough for Madara to pull him closer again. Madara breathed raggedly against his throat, and realized what he needed to do. Making sure the tails were out of the way, Madara leaned back and rolled them over, and for a moment, it was _perfect_. 

Tobirama’s throat was stretched tight under his teeth, and gods, it felt so much better, being pressed together like this. Then Madara caught the hands clenched in his hair, thoughtlessly pinning them over Tobirama’s head. 

Perhaps, without the Sharingan, he might have missed it. A minute flinch, a change to Tobirama’s breathing. The way Tobirama turned his head away - not tensing, but relaxing, strangely, in Madara’s hold. Yet the tendons in his wrists stood out under Madara’s hands. 

Too late, Madara remembered the way Tobirama would push at him, when Madara pinned him, sometimes. The way he’d rub at his wrists when thinking dark thoughts. That unhappy twist in Tobirama’s lips when he said he was left with an aversion to bondage. 

Those memories were like ice down his spine, and Madara reversed their position, already starting to apologize before his back hit the table. Tobirama was sprawled out on his chest, blinking warily down at him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m sorry. I. I fucked up. I should have remembered not to do that..!” 

Fingers on his mouth shut him up, and Tobirama drooped forward, collapsing against him. “It is... fine.” Madara could feel the flutter of his heartbeat now, and knew that it _wasn’t fine_. Even his voice didn’t sound quite normal. “I just. Was not expecting it.” 

“It’s _not_ fine,” said Madara, and it was worse than just killing the mood. Which was its own regret, but it was nothing in the face of _forgetting_... Well. He didn’t know _how_ important it was, but he did know that there was trauma there. “You _told_ me, and I _still_...” _fucked up_ , he didn’t get to finish, because Tobirama’s fingers covered his mouth more fully, pressing down. 

“It _is_ fine,” Tobirama insisted, though he kept his face hidden in Madara’s hair. “It is. I just. That is. Over with. I cannot change it. It was _the past_. This is _now_ , and. You stopped. As soon as you... realized, you stopped. So. It _is_ fine.” A soft curse, then almost too quietly for Madara to hear, in spite of how close they were, “You stopped before _I_ noticed.” 

Carefully, he caught Tobirama’s hand, but only to pull it from his mouth, and gave the captive fingers an apologetic kiss before letting go. “It’s not fine,” he insisted. “I should have remembered.” 

Tobirama shook his head. “I was not very clear, when I said..." He stopped, pulling away from Madara’s hand, and lifting up to look at Madara’s face again. Although he was pouting, Madara could see a hint of a smile trying to come out. “You muffled me.” 

“You did it first,” he pointed out, fighting back an answering smile. Now that the panic of the moment was fading, he felt a little foolish. Still guilty, but... If Tobirama was having a hard time not smiling, then maybe things were okay. “It’s not okay that I fucked up. You aren’t _fine_ , but you will be. And if you want to talk... I’m still here.” 

Tobirama sighed, and it was like all the tension Madara didn’t realize he was still carrying - as well as the false relaxation of before - faded out of him. “I don’t want to,” he said. “I probably need to. I. Even I can tell when it’s a problem, not to talk about things. But... not now.” 

Now, Madara felt safe enough to stroke Tobirama’s back, and as he did, Tobirama let out another soft sigh. “No, not now. Soon, though. Or I’m going to push you to get an evaluation from Sora, too.” Even though it was a tease, Madara meant it. He _knew_ , deep down, that he was hardly the only one around here with issues. 

Tobirama grumbled, but it sounded like a concession. “We’ll talk,” he promised. “I... might put it off a few times, but. We’ll get around to it.” 

And really, that’s all Madara could ask of him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terms:
> 
> Bikuni: The japanese version of Bhikkhunis, or, female Buddhist monks. Reading up on this is actually quite interesting
> 
> Ovcharka: A shortened version of Caucasian Ovcharka, which are more commonly known as Russian bear dogs. Check out the wikipedia page on them if you want to know more than that they are one of the largest and fuzziest of breeds.
> 
> Honey badgers: Some amusing lines about them that you might find if you google them: “Honey badgers usually only attack when surprised by predators, which often happens when they are digging – with poor eyesight and their noses in the ground, they can be oblivious to their surroundings.”  
> “Not only is its skin tough, it's loose enough that a honey badger can turn around in it and bite its attacker. And speaking of bites, the honey badger can survive the bites of some very dangerous creatures. They eat scorpions and snakes, and they have an unusually strong immunity to venom.”  
> “The honey badger is - in short - a stout and fearless creature who suffers from a severe case of megalomania. This species is, however well-deserving of its title of ‘World's Most Fearless Creature’, bestowed upon it by the Guinness World Records.”
> 
> Names:
> 
> Fuon: lit “maple steady,” “楓穏”


	6. Bath Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobirama's frustrated. Madara, for once, has to be the adult. They're bad at discussing important things, but at least they try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will slow for a while. Probably. I want to try to give The Long Way Home a little more focus. So.... semi-hiatus is to be expected while I try and tackle that particular hurdle....

Once he was over the moment of... It wasn’t panic, but once he was over it, Tobirama quickly realized that he had a _problem_. The problem being that Madara _being nice_ wasn’t something he ever thought would _be_ a problem. Except, now, here he was, frustrated because Madara was reasonable and conscientious and... 

It was frustrating, because in spite of that little hiccough, Tobirama was still horny. And it wasn’t a big problem. If Madara had just let his hands go and kept going, Tobirama would have been happy with the proceedings. They would be walking home _satisfied_ , instead of still keyed up. 

Deep down, he could appreciate the wisdom of Madara’s decision. But in the _moment_ , he was still frustrated, and wanted to talk Madara into trying again. Unfortunately, Madara was still standing firm in said decision when they left the lab. 

“Would a blowjob change your mind?” Tobirama asked, and though he modulated his voice to not carry far, Madara still choked. It did a lot to restore Tobirama’s mood, watching his lover turn that shade of red. The way he radiated embarrassment and frustration at the same time stirred something _gleeful_ in Tobirama. 

“Couldn’t you wait to start making counter-offers until we’re home, at least?” Madara grumbled, hunching his shoulders. A tiny flash of orange at his collar showed that Gouawae had been there the entire time. Again. 

Gouawae was becoming as much background noise as the the rabbit... Whose bag had, thankfully, been hanging from the edge of one of the chairs while they were playing. Tobirama wouldn’t say it was Madara planning ahead, exactly, but he was getting quite good at recognizing when he needed to put the bunny down. “Now why would I do that?” 

“Because we’re in public!” 

“If you keep your voice down, that’s hardly a problem,” Tobirama pointed out. “And you didn’t let me finish making my point before we left, so logically, the only thing to do is continue trying anyway.” 

Madara made a garbled noise, frustratedly gesturing out at the road, and the fact that there were _people_ about. Given that it wasn’t all that late, Tobirama didn’t see what was so surprising about that. Besides, he hardly cared what people thought of him most days. In spite of this, Madara still gamely continued his side of the argument. “And I stand by my point. Waiting a few hours and _talking_ about it first, is not going to hurt.” 

The utter frustration was close enough to pain that Tobirama wasn’t sure he agreed with that. “Pretty sure I know what I can handle.” 

“Pretty sure you’d push the limits, just because you can,” Madara retorted, and Tobirama could practically hear the way he rolled his eyes. “If you have to, think of it this way: _I_ find it really upsetting that I upset you.” 

Madara had a point, even if it was hard to swallow. Halfheartedly, Tobirama repeated, “And I would have been perfectly fine if, in that moment, you just let go and _kept going_.” The sense memory of everything leading up to that moment distracted him, and if they weren’t in public, Tobirama would try to make his point in a more physical way. 

Madara _growled_ , and that did nothing to help settle Tobirama’s hormones. His tone of voice, however - genuine upset threading into it - did a better job. “No, I couldn’t. I can’t just. How could I _ignore_ something like that?” 

Tobirama sighed, because it was another good point. “So. Talking when we get home?” 

“After dinner, sure,” Madara replied, winding an arm over Tobirama’s shoulder. It was comforting, and even if it didn’t lead to what Tobirama wanted, it seemed to imply that Madara was forgiving his obstinance. “If you really need to get off before that, you have a hand.” 

...he probably deserved that. 

* * *

A lifetime as a ninja meant that there were _always_ multiple things that Madara’s brain was working on at any given time. Currently, he was thinking about dinner - the sukiyaki Tobirama made last night was good, but there were absolutely no leftovers that he could wrangle into another meal - and the steps he was going to need to go through in order to prepare gyoza in particular. 

But he was also thinking of how he was going to deal with his mom, and Ate when they got home. He was already done with actually _living_ with them, and it had only been a couple of days. His own house was currently standing empty, and it was still fully furnished. There was no real reason _for them_ not to use it. 

The third thing he was dwelling on was closer to the forefront of his thoughts. Namely that he didn’t know how to handle _this_. Tobirama only stopped pushing because of Madara, not for himself. And it wasn’t like Madara wasn’t frustrated as well, but _fuck_. Sex didn’t seem like a good idea right now, not when Tobirama had come so close to panicking. Even if he didn’t seem to realize that that’s what had happened. 

Once he stopped pushing, Tobirama’s sulky frustration was stupidly cute, making it harder to actually stick to his resolve. He just wanted to pepper that pouting face with kisses - gods, when did he get so damned _sappy_? 

Thankfully, they made the rest of the trip in silence, Tobirama sagging against him. Madara wasn’t sure why Tobirama was so tired. Surely he hadn’t used that much chakra, turning himself back to normal... Another thing to be grateful for, he supposed. No fox ears to distract Madara - or tempt him into playing with them - and no tails to trip them up. It would have made the trip home more memorable for passersby, and Madara would rather not have people finding him and Tobirama walking together so remarkable. 

When they got home, they both toed off their shoes in the entryway, and Tobirama stopped a bit longer, hanging up the winter haori that he’s been wearing when out and about. Madara thought about it, then shrugged off his robe as well, even though he had to fight off the broad obi first. 

The house was chilly as hell, without that layer of protection, but Tobirama seemed unbothered. Then again, Madara probably looked less bothered than he felt, too. 

His nose perked up with interest, when they stepped into the main house - warmer, but never warm enough. The warm scent of cooked rice filled the air. And he was wary - neither Ate nor his mother were great at cooking - but hopeful. They were capable of making simple meals, as long as neither of them tried to get fancy. 

Ate ended up dragging Madara aside, asking him about appropriate spices for curry, and Madara found himself spending a good chunk of the evening helping with that and keeping an eye on the way his mother kept trying to tempt Killer Jade close. The rabbit was completely uninterested in the shreds of cabbage she had to offer, full on snacks that Madara kept in the bag for her. 

Tobirama sat down with crossed legs next to the irori, a scroll in his lap, and an inkstone and stick at his knee and brush in hand. He only bothered to move to prepare tea, and was otherwise firmly occupied while Madara and Ate bickered over the spices. 

Madara was pretty sure that he was using the scroll as a distraction, which... probably a good thing. Gods knew that they didn’t need to have that kind of a discussion in front of his mother. As she currently was, she would latch onto it and say the worst sorts of things. Unless their last conversation stuck. If she actually _listened_ to what he said about Yoshihiko... He knew Ate did. But Ate, even when he was at his most unreasonable, had always listened. 

Actually, it seemed like Ate had been more respectful, since that conversation, when he spoke to Tobirama. His mother, on the other hand... She had been quiet. Comparatively. She still snipped and complained, but it wasn’t as venomous as it had been. And she has been watching and contemplating. 

Madara wasn’t looking forward to finding out whatever she has been thinking. 

Dinner was more companionable than it had been the first couple times. Hinayu coughed and hacked when she started in on the curry, and Madara could honestly claim that the spiciness wasn’t his fault. Ate was the one who decided that they absolutely needed more than two of those tiny, crinkly red peppers. 

Madara had tried to warn him, but Ate didn’t believe him when he said that they were really spicy. Amusingly, it was only Ate and Hinayu who had a problem with the level of spice. Tobirama barely even seemed to notice, beyond sipping at his tea more often. He even seemed to like it, going back for a rare extra serving. 

Cleanup was as quiet and companionable as dinner, though, again, Ate pulled Madara aside. “Just wanted to let you know, I’m willing to be another ear if you need anyone to talk to. I can see why, after... well, the past few years, I can understand if you don’t want to tell me things, but. Hell. I’m still your uncle, and I’m _not_ always joined at the hip with your mother. So...” Ate trailed off, making a complicated face. “Yeah. I guess that’s what I wanted to say.” 

Madara ended up laughing, because Ate did awkward like an Inuzuka. “I know you look like an Uzumaki, but I wonder sometimes, if your other parent wasn’t Kouga.” 

Ate whacked his shoulder. “Shut up. I’m trying to be nice. Anyway. Why the fuck didn’t you warn me about those peppers!?” 

“I did, and you reduced the count from ten to five, so I took it as a win.” 

Madara wasn’t really looking forward to the talk he and Tobirama were supposed to have, but he bade his mother and Ate good night, anyway. Even if he didn’t really want to have the talk, he wanted to hold Tobirama, and... 

As soon as the door shut behind him, Tobirama’s cool hands were on his face, pulling him into a kiss. His mouth was warm and wet, still tasting faintly of curry spices. For a moment, the kiss did exactly what it was meant to, distracting Madara. Even more so when Tobirama leaned into him, a thick line of heat up the front of his body. 

A groan welled up in his throat, and he had to take a moment to steady himself. Catching Tobirama’s hands, he pulled back slightly. “Tobirama..." 

Tobirama made a frustrated noise, deflating. And then he was just a warm weight against Madara, head dropping to his shoulder. “I know, I know. I just..." 

“Yeah.” Tobirama probably wanted to avoid this too, and... It would have been a good distraction, but it was really bad timing for it. “Let’s just. Get ready for bed? Or would you like a bath first?” 

Tobirama’s head moved - a nod, though Madara couldn’t really see it. “A bath sounds good.” 

“It does, doesn’t it? Soak in nice, hot water?” He coaxed Tobirama out of their room - and when did he start thinking of it as ‘theirs,’ anyway? - and to the furo. Due to some simple but elegant seal-work on the pipes, the water that was pumped into the large tub was always perfect temperature. 

Tobirama had even told him how to adjust it, if he wanted, but Madara liked it just fine as it was. Perhaps one day, he would experiment with the temperature, but today wasn’t that day. 

They let the tub fill as they washed - Madara playfully attempting to ‘help’ Tobirama, getting elbowed in the sternum before Tobirama turned around and started in on Madara’s hair. Madara hadn’t been planning on tackling that mess this time - he always avoided it for as long as he could stand - but couldn’t deny Tobirama in this. 

Even when _’this’_ was something as frustrating as taking care of his hair. If it made Tobirama happy to play with it, then Madara was happy to let him. 

It will be a pain, drying it out later, but right now it felt wonderful. Although, the sound of Tobirama scoffing quietly made his eyebrows raise. “What are you thinking?” 

In response, Tobirama rubbed soap more vigorously into Madara’s hair, making his brain short out a little. “As much as I like your hair, the water does _not_ penetrate it easily. I suspect you’re a duck in disguise, at this point.” 

“Funny. Just remember that when I wake up miserable because my damned hair is still wet,” he grumbled. Sleeping with wet hair always gave him a headache. Not the worst sort of pain, but something he would rather avoid, unless necessary. 

“Then we dry it, idiot,” Tobirama told him. For someone who was so good at maintaining a bland façade, he was easy to read when Madara couldn’t even see his face. 

“You say that now,” Madara started, but trailed off at the feeling of warm water soaking his hair. Tobirama’s hands were far preferable. For some reason, the feeling of water reaching his scalp always made his skin crawl. It was necessary to get out the soap and excess oils, but he _hated it_. 

“What am I most known for, Madara?” Tobirama’s tone was humoring, though Madara got the feeling that he was a little annoyed, as well. 

“Water and speed?” he asked, dubious. 

“I can get your hair dry,” Tobirama said, and slowly upturned another bucket, rinsing his hair further. “I’m sure that _you_ could as well, if you put your mind to it.” 

Tobirama had a _point_ , but Madara was going to pretend to ignore it. “I’d still rather get the washing done without the _wet hair_ part.” Tobirama rubbed his back soothingly, through the sodden mass of hair, and Madara sighed. Then he took a handful and wrung out as much water as he could. 

“That’s really not how you’re supposed to do it.” There was laughter in Tobirama’s voice now, and the man leaned up against his back. “Let me do it, then we can tie it up and finish taking care of it afterwards.” It felt strange, but relieving, having the water gently pulled from his hair. And true to his word, Tobirama helped him tie it up so that they could soak in the bath without it getting wet again. 

They settled into the steaming water together, Tobirama half on top of him. Closeness for the sake of being close, and Madara could finally relax, knowing that was the case. Now that they were naked and slippery wet, and all Tobirama wanted was to curl up close to him. If there was one thing Madara liked about their relationship, it was how close they could be, and have it as nothing but closeness. Just the warmth of two bodies, resting trustingly together. 

Amusingly, he also knew that Tobirama _wouldn’t_ start things in the tub. Something about how the pipes were narrow, and semen would destroy them. (And there was more, which was about Hashirama as a teenager, shame-faced and having to replace them.) 

It was a shame, that he couldn’t really kiss Tobirama’s face in this position. That was one urge that he wanted to follow through on. At the moment though, the best he could do was nuzzle the damp and silky mess of Tobirama’s hair. 

“I want to get over it,” Tobirama said abruptly. So much so that Madara was left blinking, wondering what he was talking about. Tobirama turned in his lap, to look him in the eye. “It’s _stupid_ that I reacted like that, over something that happened a decade ago. I should be _over it_.” 

...oh. That. What was he supposed to say to that? Madara took a deep breath and tried anyway. “Why? Why should you be over it? You aren’t telling me that I should be over what happened to my brother-” and gods, that was still nightmare material- “when I was _five_ , and that was over _two_ decades ago.” 

“It’s different,” Tobirama insisted, an unhappy slant to his mouth. “That was _family_. Of course I don’t expect you to be over it.” 

“Gods, how can you be so smart and so stupid at the same time?” It was like that first argument all over again. And Madara still didn’t know how to handle it. “Shit like that. Gods. You don’t just _compare it_. They aren’t the same at all. I get that it’s different, but. I don’t expect you to just. Be over it, or whatever, just like you don’t expect _me_ to be over an entirely different situation that happened a fucking lot longer ago.” 

There was that obstinate pout again. If Tobirama tried to argue the point, Madara would have to kiss him silent. But Tobirama only made an irritated grumble and looked away. His next words weren’t a continuation of the budding argument. “It doesn’t change that I want to get over it.” 

Madara _understood that_ , he really did, so he did the only thing he could think to do and pulled Tobirama close again. “We can figure out some way to work on it.” 

Tobirama grunted what may have been a agreement, then melted against him. If their relationship managed to last _years_ , Madara doubted he would ever take this feeling for granted. It felt _novel_ , every time, the hard lines of Tobirama’s body softening against him. 

Neither of them were inclined to move for quite a while after that. 

It was too easy, to nearly fall asleep in the furo. Especially when getting out would mean stepping into the chill of the rest of the house. The water was warm and lulling, but eventually, they had to get out, skin deeply pruned by the long soak. 

Madara almost forgot Tobirama’s promise to help with his hair. The feeling of Tobirama’s hands in it didn’t immediately register - he was too busy heading for the cabinet where Tobirama kept spare yukatas. The first real warning before he was yanked backwards was the amused noise Tobirama made. Next thing he knew, he was sitting on the bench, a towel beneath him, Tobirama’s fingers working determinedly through the worst of the knots. 

Any protests were lost on a sigh. No matter how much he hated dealing with his hair, it was always different, when it was Tobirama’s hands, picking apart the knots and smoothing it out - adding lotion to it, in small increments, which Madara wanted to hate, but he could concede that it really did make his hair more manageable. 

It also felt nice. And... that was probably the main reason he didn’t protest. 

Once the worst of the knots were taken care of, Tobirama finally started actually brushing it, in that odd way he did. Madara would automatically start at the top, but Tobirama proved himself wiser. Starting at the bottom avoided most of the pain. Once the brush finally got to the top, Madara could truly enjoy it. 

Some things would make his skin crawl, when they touched his scalp - such as water slowly trickling through the thick mass of his hair. The bristles of a brush, the scrape of fingernails, or even the softer scrub of fingertips, on the other hand, would send a delicious shiver down his spine. And Tobirama did it so well..! 

It was one of the most blissful sensations he had ever been subjected to. 

Tobirama, perhaps unsurprisingly, continued brushing long after each stroke was smooth an uninterrupted. If it weren’t for the fact that Madara really didn’t want him to stop, it might have been funny. Instead, Madara let his head fall back, in order to enjoy it better. 

It seemed unfair that these moments always had to end. 

His hair was carefully plaited, and Tobirama took his time, lingering over each motion, and at the end, just before tying it off, he lifted it to his lips. Madara didn’t understand Tobirama’s fascination with his hair, but... Turning around just enough to see that... His heart may have fluttered a bit, but he wasn’t about to acknowledge it. 

Instead, he turned the rest of the way, so that he could pull Tobirama into a real kiss. 

He also didn’t want to leave without returning the favor, now that he was thinking about it. That damned lotion - that has _haunted him_ ever since he had learned of its existence - was a large part of Tobirama’s bathing routine. Just on its own, it had a lovely, mild scent, but combined with Tobirama’s _skin_? Madara’s mouth watered, every time he smelled it. 

Just another reason to enjoy bath time. Getting to ‘help’ Tobirama slather himself with it - even his hair, which never failed to amuse Madara - was more fun than almost any other part of the process. Although, admittedly, the help with his own hair was up there. 

Also, his help might not actually count as ‘help,’ given how squirmy Tobirama got. ‘Teasing’ was probably more accurate. But Tobirama’s skin was soft and slick under his wandering hands. Focusing on the actual task was difficult. Especially when Tobirama squirmed, biting back a moan. 

For a moment, his hands were sidetracked by Tobirama’s half mast erection. The ragged breath his lover took in response was _lovely_ , but had the unfortunate effect of reminding Madara that noises were a thing. And he didn’t think Tobirama had the same kinds of seals on the walls of the furo, even if he could sense that there _were_ seals present. 

“Fuck, you’re awful, and fuck, this probably should wait until we’re back in the bedroom,” Tobirama murmured, panting. 

Madara groaned. He _agreed_ , but... “It’s like having _children_ ,” he complained. As weird as it was to say that about his own mother, it was certainly how it felt. “I need to convince her to move out as soon as possible.” 

Tobirama muttered something dire sounding under his breath, and vigorously went back to applying the damned lotion. This time, Madara helped for real. The sooner they were done, the sooner he could do nefarious things to Tobirama. 

Tobirama smiled, when Madara helped him into a yukata, and outright laughed when Madara picked him up. Madara half expected for Tobirama to be annoyed at getting carried, but he only made himself comfortable, and leaned up against Madara’s shoulder. “You call _me_ a dork? And then you go and do this?” 

“You are a dork,” he retorted, trying to remember why he called Tobirama a dork before. Right. Right after that kiss on the nose. “You kissed my nose. That’s a good reason to call you a dork.” He nearly dropped Tobirama when the _dork_ bit his jaw. “Really? You’re going to be like that?” 

Tobirama clung to him, having certainly noticed the flinch where Madara almost dropped him. “If you’re going to make fun of me kissing your nose, then yes. I’m going to be like that.” He nipped Madara again - though this time, at least, Madara was prepared and didn’t flinch - then craned his head to nibble on Madara’s ear. 

“Do you really want me to drop you before we get to our room?” All that complaint got was a low chuckle, and further nibbling. Suddenly, walking was much harder, and Madara swore at him. Opening the bedroom door one handed, he announced, “You don’t get to call me awful anymore.” 

Before the door even fully closed, one of Tobirama’s hands fisted on his braid, dragging his head backward and exposing his throat to more sharp nips. His hands trembled, trying to hold Tobirama’s weight steady, but that was really distracting. “I think. I’ll call you awful when I feel like it,” Tobirama said, voice a purr in his ear that did nothing to help him remain steady. 

“ _You’re_ awful,” he managed. Then had to nudge Tobirama into priming the damned seals which were the main reason they didn’t stay in the furo. Tobirama kicked him - from an awkward angle, so it didn’t hurt in the least - when Madara nibbled on his shoulder in revenge. 

“Bed, idiot,” Tobirama said, kicking again. 

“Yes Master,” Madara grumbled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “What else, Mas-ow! Oi, don’t be an ass!” 

“Who’s an ass?” Tobirama asked, already soothing the harder bite with lips and tongue. “I think you need to spend more time in front of a mirror. Then you’ll know what an ass looks like.” 

Still grumbling, Madara dropped onto the bed, not bothering to put Tobirama down first. As fun as it was to play fight like this, he needed to think about how far he was willing to let things go tonight. He was still worried about earlier. He just didn’t know how to bring it up. 

Tobirama sighed, dropping his teasing air. He didn’t move, either, just layed as though he was still in Madara’s arms. “If this is about earlier, that’s the only thing I can think of that you _could do_ that would make me react like that.” 

“I don’t want to make it worse..." Madara sighed, shifting around so that he could wrap his arms around Tobirama. Then rolled to the side to curl up with him. “And I’m... worried. I guess. If we have sex right now, that might make it worse?” 

It was a relief, Tobirama turning to fit against his body without leaving extra space between them. The corners of his mouth were twisted into a wry smile. “I doubt it would, but if it makes you feel better, I can handle a night without.” 

“Even if it means I’m being stupid... Yeah, it does.” It only took the work of a moment, to have a blanket up and around them. They were warm enough where they pressed together to make up for the chill of the blanket itself, and soon enough, their combined body heat will make it comfortable beneath the blanket. 

“You aren’t being stupid,” Tobirama soothed. “It’s a reasonable concern. But... at this point, nothing is going to make it better or worse. Although... If I feel up to it in the morning, I’ll probably start pushing again. Because you worked me up twice today, and I haven’t gotten off. That’s borderline _cruel_.” 

Madara couldn’t help but laugh. He agreed, but... Coming from Tobirama, it sounded strange and ridiculous. “You’re still a dork,” he said. 

But they were both still smiling when they finally fell asleep. 


	7. Full Circle Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are bad days, and there's good days, and sometimes, one of them has a better day than the other. Whether or not they know it, they're getting much better at this comfort thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I went a bit longer than intended between updates... But I did warn that this one would be slower. ♡

Madara awoke sprawled on his back, with an insistent mouth sucking on his throat. His hands automatically reached for the source of that wonderful feeling, encountering soft cotton and silky skin. A thick, sleepy groan escaped his throat, “Tobira...”

“C’mon, c’mon...” The words were panted, hot and damp against his throat, just shy of desperate, and Madara couldn’t help but respond, even if only to pull Tobirama close. Cool fingers dragged across his chest, tangling in the hair there. “Fuck, please, _want_...” Teeth on his collarbone make him gasp, and Tobirama’s hands tug and pull at him, even as Tobirama continued muttering. “Something, just. Please, Madara...”

He didn’t know what Tobirama wanted, but couldn’t refuse that needy tone. He nuzzled into Tobirama’s hair, murmuring, “Tobira... Tell me what you need...”

“Distract me? Please?”

Madara froze, mind suddenly whirling into wakefulness. He had a horrible suspicion as to what this was about. “Tobirama..." He frowned when Tobirama went still, shrinking against him. Carefully, he stroked one hand down Tobirama’s back. Clearly, directly addressing the concern wasn’t going to work. “How... How do you want me to do that?”

For a moment, Tobirama remained silent, and then, “I need to stop thinking.” Still needy, but now Madara could hear the ache in his voice. And Madara had no idea what to do. So far, it felt like he was taking the right steps, but one mistake... He could only hope that the consequences of a mistake wouldn’t fuck them both up too bad.

Sex was probably not the answer, even if it might prove to be a good distraction. Stroking Tobirama’s back didn’t seem to be making things worse, so he kept it up while he thought. What would an utter waste of a human being _not_ do? For some reason, the only answer that came to mind was the silly urge from last night, and Madara was still addled enough from sleep to follow through.

Taking Tobirama’s face between his hands - much to Tobirama’s visible consternation - he pulled him close and pressed a kiss between his eyebrows. Tobirama blinked, opening his mouth to protest, and Madara kissed his cheek.

“What are you-” A third kiss landed on his lips, interrupting Tobirama mid query, but Madara didn’t linger, pressing another and another, on Tobirama’s chin, his nose, the corners of his eyes, until Tobirama gave up, and just accepted it. “You’re a dork,” he muttered.

“Better?” Madara asked, and Tobirama huffed at him.

“I was _fine_ ,” Tobirama pouted, blinking when Madara kissed his nose again. “You do realize you just cockblocked yourself. Again.”

Laughing helplessly, Madara leaned in for another kiss. Wrapped his arms around his pouting lover, who collapsed against him with a soft noise of complaint. “I know. I’m not worried about it.” Because it seemed to help, he continued rubbing circles on Tobirama’s back, and was encouraged by each little bit of tension that faded. “There’s plenty of things more important than that. And if it becomes a concern, you’re not the only one with hands.”

He didn’t want to get up just yet, wanted to stay wrapped up with Tobirama for at least a little longer. Tobirama was soft and lax against him, now that the tension is gone, and this is the best way Madara could think of to spend the time before the day had to begin.

* * *

From the kitchen storage, Ate watched his best friend fume. He shook his head and went back to perusing Tobirama’s ‘pantry’. Hinayu’s issues are her own, and as much as he loves her, he found her current ire annoying.

It’s funny, to him, that when faced with Hinayu’s sheer presence, people tend to forget that Ate is even there, in spite of his sheer size and the vibrant color of his hair. As such, he learned things. Rumor couldn’t give him everything, but from what he _did_ pick up, Madara and Tobirama deserve the occasional lie in.

Not that he thought she objected to _Madara_ lazing around.

Honestly, it was getting to the point where he just wanted to _scold_ her. Thankfully, he was distracted by the contents of Tobirama’s storage - she’d screech at him if he got on her case, and it was _not_ something he wanted to deal with at this hour. He was just looking for extra rice, since the bin that he got it from last night was nearing empty, but... 

The kitchen storage was full of _scrolls_ , and he couldn’t help the baffled sound that escaped him at the sight of their ends, all clearly labeled with perfect kanji. There were so many, and it took a moment for him to just focus on _one_. That one was labeled with a neat set of kanji - 大根, daikon. One scroll - slightly dusty - among what looked like hundreds, that probably specifically held nothing but _daikon radishes_.

A single scroll, he knew from experience, could hold up to ninety kilograms of items, depending on how well made it was - sometimes more, but usually not by much. His head swirled from all the kanji, but knowing that there was probably thousands of kilograms of food stored _right here_ was... Well. Assuming any of it was any good.

Sealing things into scrolls doesn’t stop the progression of time, and given that some of the kanji he recognizes - such as fish - are foods that spoil quickly... 

All he wanted was rice, and it took quite some time before he realized that the scrolls were divided into sections, and not arranged only by some arbitrary god’s will. He finally found 米 - rice - near several sets of kanji labeling different kinds of beans, and it felt like a stroke of luck. Memorizing its location, he pulled the scroll, covering the storage again with a relieved sigh.

“What are you even doing there?” Hinayu asked, tone sharp.

Her irritability lately wasn’t doing his temper any favors, either, but he swallowed his annoyance. “I was looking for the rice. If you’re thinking about mocking me for taking so long, you take a look at this guy’s storage before you open your mouth.” So he didn’t manage to completely suppress his response. Who could fault him?

By the time Madara and Tobirama finally came out - about ten minutes later, looking distinctly _un_ fucked, which was unusual, given the past few days - Hinayu was still trying to make sense of Tobirama’s convoluted food storage system. By the way Madara stared when he saw all the scrolls, Ate assumed that Madara hadn’t actually known it was there.

The difference showed in how easy Madara was able to navigate the collection, being more well read than either of them. He huffed and exclaimed for a few minutes before bringing up the thing that was bothering Ate. “What’s the point? It doesn’t matter how good your seals are, the fish is going to go bad in a couple of days. I don’t. I’m afraid to open any of these.”

For some reason, that brought a smile to Tobirama’s face. “Grilled fish with our rice, this morning?” he suggested, and lifted one of the scrolls. “I picked up some hirame last time I was in Uzu.”

Madara followed Tobirama with an intense frown - that only grew more intense when the seal was opened. The fish was pristine and perfectly filleted by what had to have been an experienced hand. Most importantly, in spite of the dustiness of the scroll, the fish was _fresh_ , while everything Ate knew about seals, and particularly storage scrolls, told him that that wasn’t possible.

Storage didn’t prevent aging. Food would still deteriorate over time.

Ate wanted to dissect those seals. If there was one area where he was more than passably literate, it was fuinjutsu - and who knows, maybe that supported the occasional claim that he looked like an Uzumaki.

He and Hinayu have spent days at a time, trying to figure out how to work out the peculiar form of fuinjutsu that they picked up during their early years on the streets, and while it didn’t always match up with other forms of fuinjutsu - such as storage scrolls - he still found such things endlessly fascinating. The idea that Tobirama somehow managed to stop time, even if only for _food_ , was exciting in a way that Ate hadn’t felt in years.

He couldn’t articulate what he wanted to know right away, and neither, it seemed, could Hinayu. She jiggled in place and whined softly, curious and angry at herself for being curious. A fierce glare was aimed at the fish, which was laid out across the grill, innocently curling at the edges.

The smell of it was utterly distracting, as Madara’s cooking skills were supplemented with Tobirama’s. On his own, Madara was a formidable cook. Alongside Tobirama? Thoughts of seals slipped away, in favor of delicious scents.

By the time their food is plated, there’s a thin curl of citrus on top of each fillet, a small salad consisting mostly of fine slices of daikon and cucumber, small bowls of rice and cups of miso with fresh tofu and green onions on top - which Tobirama’s conspicuously lacked. It was so much better than yesterday’s offerings, which... Madara apparently couldn’t be counted on to cook when distracted.

The fish was soft and buttery and flaky, and better than anything he’d gotten in Mizu no Kuni, which was ridiculous, because they had all the fish _right there_. He and Hinayu had fresh fish all the time, and not once was it this good. Sometimes they would watch fishermen cook the fish right off the boats, and sell it alongside the rest of their catch.

Apparently, their supposed expertise was nothing compared to Tobirama’s deft hand with herbs, nor his care with timing. There was no second servings for the hirame, unfortunately, but there was plenty of rice and miso, so they were well fed in short order.

Afterwards, while they were cleaning up, Madara waffled about what he had to do next - apparently he needed to be in his office at the administrative building today - until Tobirama gave him a kiss on the cheek and all but pushed him out the door. “I can take care of myself for a few hours!”

After slogging a few feet through snow that was noticeably wetter than the previous day, Madara turned back around and yelled, “ _You_ are a dork!” then continued stomping along his merry way.

Tone soft and querulous, Hinayu turned to Ate and asked, “You’re a dork?”

“ _You’re_ a dork,” he replied, side-eyeing her. Her confused pout quickly grew annoyed, but she didn’t have time to complain, because Tobirama interrupted the brewing argument.

“ _I’m_ a dork,” he said, then walked past them, with a smug little smirk.

“Oi! What. What is that even supposed to mean?” Hinayu snapped, turning to chase after him. She sounded more baffled than angry, which was a great improvement.

Tobirama just shrugged, and set about what might have been a morning routine that they just hadn’t had a chance to witness yet. He made tea, which he shared with them, settled at the kotatsu with several scrolls and a loose stack of papers. And that reminded Ate of the questions he wanted to ask. Tobirama looked a bit wary when he sat across from him, but Ate pretended not to notice.

“So. The seals in your food storage... _How?_ "

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, how much change the question brought to Tobirama’s face, but this was a topic Tobirama would love to discuss.

* * *

If Tobirama weren’t so involved in the discussion - and laying out examples in swift strokes on excess paper - he might have been pleased to finally have some common ground between himself and Madara’s mother and uncle. As it was, he was too involved in explaining the intricacies of the interlocking elements of his and Mito’s improvements on basic storage seal design.

Both Ate and Hinayu had intelligent questions, seeming to be able to read the language of seals better than they did kanji. It was, he often found, an innate talent that gave some an advantage in learning fuinjutsu, but not all who had the knack were so inclined to expand upon it. It was pleasant, being able to talk with two people who happened to be so inclined. Even Hinayu dropped her sullen antagonism to get into the discussion.

They can’t have been at it too long when there was a knock on the door. Tobirama didn’t bother to answer - recognizing Touka’s chakra as the caller. He was more interested in sharing an anecdote about how they lost an island during the initial testing of the improved storage seal.

“It shouldn’t have been able to store anything of that magnitude - it was quite a surprise how the temporal aspects changed the spatial aspects. The problems, however, were twofold. Firstly, we couldn’t find where the seal ended up, and thus _the island_. Secondly... The displacement caused tidal waves all along the coast, even as far as Mizu no Kuni... Actually, Hi no Kuni got the least of it."

“When was this?” Hinayu asked, and by the time Touka came in, she and Ate were laughing, because apparently they had been present for the tsunami. “Oh, we helped, of course. And the civilians there are resilient. They knew how to handle it. When you live in a place like that, you have to know what to do when it happens...”

Touka stopped in the entryway, glowering down at the three of them, lips pursed. “Hey, brat! You’re supposed to answer the door!”

He huffed. “Maybe you should have taken the hint!” Tobirama didn’t know what she wanted, and was quite sure he didn’t want to.

Touka huffed and swept right in, in spite of the blatant hint that he was _busy_ , damnit. “Madara asked me to come check on you,” she said, already poking through the papers scattered between the three at the table. “And he’s _paying_ me.”

“Who is this?” asked Hinayu, radiating irritation at the interruption. Suspicion too, but hardly noticeable in comparison to the grouchiness. Ate didn’t seem too happy, either. Tobirama was hardly the only one deeply involved in the discussion.

Seeing an opportunity to throw Touka and Madara both under the same fireball, Tobirama smiled. “This is one of Madara’s new friends, Touka.” As amusing as it was, watching Madara accidentally make friends with each member of his family, Tobirama had no idea when Touka and Madara started talking.

“You don’t get to leave yourself out of it, little cousin.” Touka plopped down next to him, sticking her damp, icy feet next to his. “Well, get up. You get to make me lunch, since I’m spending my lunch break checking on you.”

He grimaced at the unexpected sensation, pulling his feet away from Touka’s. “And what, may I ask, is Madara paying you? Perhaps I can top it to make you leave me alone.”

“Joke’s on you,” she said, stealing his tea. “He’s paying me in labor and food. Specifically, _your_ labor, and _your_ food. He figured you’d forget to eat lunch without a reminder. And you know? I’d do this for free!”

“Which part? Check on me, or bully me into making you lunch?” Tobirama grumbled, noting how both Hinayu and Ate seemed to be quite amused by the exchange.

“Both,” Touka replied. “Get going now. I don’t have all day. I’m doing half of your work, you know.”

“Fuck you,” he muttered, but got up anyway. “And learn how to cook more than rice, so that you aren’t harassing other, hard working people for their cooking. It’s unseemly.”

“Like I care,” she said, shoving at him. Which was _rude_ , considering that he was already up. “Chop chop.”

Just for that, he’s feeding her onigiri.

Touka complained, of course, claiming that she already went through her share of the damned onigiri, and it wasn’t fair for Kagami’s other aunts and uncles to feed her parts of theirs. When he told her to suck it up or starve, she took her share, and the simple soup that went with it.

Hinayu and Ate understandably didn’t get the issue. Ate even went so far as to comment that there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the onigiri.

Touka told him to give it a few weeks, so Tobirama kicked her as he sat back down. On accident, of course. Conversation picked back up after that - Touka spitefully talking over him. He didn’t mind. He was surprised to find that they had talked all morning, and a break wouldn’t hurt him.

Touka shared anecdotes of the many times he’s fucked up and been caught at it - sealing stories, primarily, given the area both of his guests were interested in. By the time she left, Hinayu had a small arsenal of things to mock him with, but... He didn’t mind that either. If it helped her cope with his presence by having such things, he liked to think that it would ease some of Madara’s tension, too.

She had to go back to work not long after that, then Tobirama lost a couple more hours explaining how the mentioned mistakes happened, and what he learned from them. Yes, he did break almost all the bones in his body testing the Hiraishin. Of course he learned a lot from it. One of the things he learned was that Tomoyo-baasan has very little patience for idiots who walk home on broken legs, but what else was he to do? Lay there?

He still didn’t understand why people always laugh when he tells that story. Walking back was the only reasonable option. What got Ate to crack up (Hinayu was already giggling, face down on the table, while Ate tried to keep a stoic front) was when Tobirama mentioned that he _could have_ tried to use the Hiraishin to get back, but that the only seals he had at home were even less developed than the one he had been testing.

“Did it occur to you to use some kind of elemental clone to get help?” Ate managed to choke out.

“Yes, but there were problems with that. Moving my hands, and the distance to the compound.” A water clone wouldn’t have held up for the distance, not with how difficult it had been to think. “I healed what I could, before walking. It was... uncomfortable, I admit.” Excruciating. Then numb, unless he jarred something. It remained the worst physical injury he’s ever caused himself.

While recovering, he had been stuck eating soft foods, like fresh tofu. At the time, the restricted diet had irked him. Now, however, he finds himself reminded that he normally _likes_ fresh tofu, and there are still late autumn fruits - and even if there weren’t, he has plenty stored away, if he wants to get into it - he could eat it with. With mizuame, or kuromitsu.

It would make a lovely desert, only he didn’t actually _have_ fresh tofu. There looked to be an errand in Tobirama’s future. As soon as he could redirect Ate and Hinayu - who, in her distraction, had been friendly for most of the day - he went to put on proper clothing for trekking out into the wet snow.

It was getting late enough that Madara wouldn’t be much longer. If Tobirama tried, he could meet up with Madara when he starts heading home. He’s not sure when he started to think of his home as Madara’s as well, but it seems fitting enough. Tobirama didn’t think that Madara spent a full night in his own house since he came back from the onsen. It’s a strangely warming thought, realizing that Madara has chosen to spend so much time with him.

Going out to meet him suddenly seemed much less strange.

Madara’s chakra felt oddly slow, once Tobirama bothered to focus on it. Tobirama paused in the snow, trying to work out just what felt different. It took a long moment to realize that it felt _artificial_ , calm in a way that papers over true feelings.

Now Tobirama was worried. While he doesn’t forget the tofu, it wasn’t important. Whatever was wrong with Madara was.

He angled across the market, heading for the administrative building which... Madara was just exiting. Tobirama slowed his approach when he realized that Madara was talking to Sora, and now that he could see him... The slow jerky way Madara nodded in agreement with the Yamanaka head was even more worrying.

His chakra seemed to perk up when he noticed Tobirama, though. That allayed some of Tobirama’s concern. Not enough, but whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be dire.

Tobirama waited patiently for their conversation, short as it was, to finish. When Madara turned toward him, his shoulders were slumped, and his hair kept his face in shadow. But he accepted the hug Tobirama offered, sighing softly against Tobirama’s neck. “Are you alright?” Tobirama asked, still concerned.

“Just something for anxiety,” Madara murmured. “The... Yoshihiko incident is... We’re finishing clearing that up. My opinions were needed.”

A tiny orange shape made itself visible at Madara’s collar, and silently waved at him before slinking back down, hidden again in the mess of Madara’s hair. Tobirama gave Gouawae a small smile, hugging Madara more firmly - appreciating the feeling of Madara melting against him, even if this was supposed to be _for Madara_ , not him.

“We should get take-out tonight,” Tobirama said, rubbing Madara’s back. Madara made a questioning sound in response, not lifting his face from Tobirama’s shoulder. “I have a feeling that you probably shouldn’t be cooking, and I don’t particularly want to, either.”

“Gyudon,” Madara said, still not moving. “I want onions and beef.”

“That’s fair,” Tobirama agreed. “Let’s get you home, and you can lay on the couch with Gouawae and Killer Jade while I take care of that.”

Ten minutes later, he found himself wondering if he cursed himself, thinking of how well the day with Hinayu and Ate as his only companions went. He was gone for twenty minutes. And now, the four adults (although calling them all adults suddenly felt _questionable_ ) stood in the hall, surveying the damage to one of the walls.

There was a hole punched through, a little higher than Ate’s head, and there was a long tear leading down from it, ending on the floor. The room beyond was cold and dark, usually used for storage, and nothing else. Cold air - colder than the hallway - flowed through the damaged wall.

One person in the hall radiated guilt. Another, exasperation. Madara just looked baffled, like he was having a hard time comprehending what he was seeing. Tobirama turned to the guilty party, just as exasperated as Ate, and as baffled as Madara. “How did you manage to do this? Were you flying?”

Hinayu pouted at him. “Why are you assuming it’s me? That hole is closer to Ate’s height!”

“There’s only one person here radiating guilt,” Tobirama replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You may as well explain what happened. Unless Ate can tell me what you did.”

“I found her on the floor,” Ate said, shrugging. He sounded both wry and apologetic, with a hint of amusement creeping in at the edges. “I can’t say how she did it, but that hole was from her head. And she was stuck at the bottom of the tear when I found her.”

Hinayu eventually, grudgingly, admitted that she did it, and no, she wasn’t flying. But she refused to explain _how_. She offered to fix it - far less grudging, and almost sheepishly - though, so Tobirama counted it as a win. Or at least as coming out even. Almost.

That was around when she noticed how off Madara was, and to her credit, she didn’t assume that Tobirama did anything to cause it. Instead, she immediately started fussing (showing where her son might have picked up that habit), ushering Madara back to the main room - he had to point out where he wanted to go, and she swore, having forgotten the couch - and asking him if he took one of Hikaku’s pills.

“I know they fuck me up,” Madara admitted, when he was finally sitting down with the rabbit in his lap. Killer Jade walked a turn before settling down right under one of his hands. “But today was a bad day. We were... sorting out the... stuff. From Midorisōgen. The people there aren’t... doing very well, but we’re taking in the ones who... are willing to come. I’m not sure how I’m going to deal with that.”

There was no way that Tobirama could _leave_ , hearing Madara’s words. He also couldn’t immediately do what he wanted, which was sit down with Madara, to comfort both Madara and himself.

(He didn’t like to think about how the people of Midorisōgen might be faring, and how he contributed to their fate. Even less, did he like to think about the people of Yoshihiko’s commune, because some of those people had been there for years. With any luck, those ones died quickly.)

He took a moment to ask Ate to pick up take-out for the four of them. “Madara wants gyudon in particular, and I meant to pick up fresh tofu while I was out. I... want to sit with him, and if I head back out, I can’t do that.”

Ate accepted the money for the task with an easy smile - though Tobirama added a bit extra, for his trouble. To make things easier for _Tobirama_ , Ate grabbed Hinayu by the shoulder, and turned her toward the front door, ignoring her protests. “We won’t be long,” he told them, as they left.

Within moments of knowing that Ate would do as asked, Tobirama wedged himself in next to Madara, tugging at him until they rested close together. Madara slowly relaxed, and let his head fall back against Tobirama’s chest. It was just as soothing as he thought it would be, having Madara’s weight leaning on him like this. If it helped Madara even half as much, he would be happy.

“I meant to ask you,” Madara said, voice low and thick. “What it was you learned there. That you wanted to tell me. I just. Don’t know if we’re in a good enough place for that right now.”

The muscles in Tobirama’s jaw tightened involuntarily. He doesn’t particularly want to share the self-reflection he’s had over the... incident. But Madara’s lost memories... While Tobirama doesn’t know if they’re in a good enough place for that, he doesn’t believe it’s his right to withhold that information. “It’s about what you don’t remember,” he said, pressing his nose into Madara’s hair and closing his eyes. “I’ll... leave it up to you to decide when we have that conversation. If it needs to be now... I’m... not comfortable with it, but I’m willing.”

“I’m kind of... numb, right now,” Madara murmured. “Hikaku’s medicine tends to do that to me. It’s probably the best time for that kind of thing. When I won’t react emotionally.”

He nuzzled into Madara’s hair, considering Hinayu and Ate’s current location, and how much longer it was likely to take them to return. They feel like they’re waiting. Hinayu’s energy is vibrating petulant impatience, while Ate’s seems like low-grade aggravation. He had time, if he was willing to continue. “It was... so easy to talk to him.” Thinking back on it, it was so very strange, feeling that way. “I mentioned your memory loss to him, and he gave me his take on what happened.

“Supposedly, you made a friend, while you were there. He didn't give much detail, but you killed them, protecting him. When they died... He said he couldn’t bear your guilt and grief. So he told you to forget.” The human mind is a strange and powerful thing, Tobirama mused. Altering itself that way just because it was _told to_... It was fascinating. Horrifying. Yoshihiko probably could have ordered Tobirama to spare him, to save him, in his last moments. Or he could have ordered him to do something far worse, but he _didn’t_.

Madara was quiet for long enough that Tobirama would have doubted he was awake if he couldn’t feel him thinking. He was still petting Killer Jade, as well, though the motion was mechanical. “Is it strange... that sometimes I still miss him?”

The question made Tobirama’s breath catch in his throat, but he answered anyway. “No. It isn’t strange at all.”

* * *

Long after dinner, after Killer Jade and Gouawae were put to bed, the medicine Madara had taken wore off, leaving him a tense and shaking wreck. He kept apologizing, but Tobirama didn’t understand why he felt the need. He wasn’t even sure what Madara was apologizing for, so he just held him close, rubbing his back. Neither of them will sleep any time soon, if this continues, but...

Tobirama didn’t know how to help. Not that he ever really did. He _tries_ , but the only thing he has to offer is physical comfort... There’s one other thing he could try, but Tobirama had doubts about his ability to do so. There was a song that Lady Megumi sang for them, when she was still well enough (he last heard it when he was fifteen, but his memory in this is as clear as it is in anything else). Tobirama’s own mother had found it as comforting as any of Butsuma’s children had.

Tobirama very rarely sang. He can do so, of course. It has been useful in the past. Remembering the _tune_ , however, is far more difficult for him than the lyrics. Words are easy. He hummed softly, trying to catch the tune, but it takes a few tries before it starts to sound right.

It was a gentle tune, meant for a soft, light voice, which his is _not_. It comes out as a raspy croon to begin with, before smoothing out, slow and measured. The first words cause Madara to still in his arms.

“Your heart, my love,” Tobirama crooned, already doubting himself, because he hadn’t expected Madara’s reaction, he doesn’t stop, though, already committed to finishing what he started, “is a seed on the wind, take care where it grows..."

Madara’s stillness, once Tobirama has had a moment to analyze the shift in his chakra, isn’t a bad thing. He’s listening, intently, somehow warm and wistful at the same time. It was an encouraging reaction, when the tension began to bleed from his frame. “In time, my love, it will leave your hand, take root where love flows...

“My love, my heart,” he sang, continuing in the same mellow tone he began with, “is a sheltering tree, to shield you as you learn..." By this point, Madara had relaxed almost completely. Still and quiet, head resting on Tobirama’s chest as he listened to the soft singing. “In time, my heart, you'll walk 'neath the sun, and grow a seed, in turn...”

As he trailed off for the final time, he felt Madara shift against him. For a moment, he worried that the anxiety would come back, but Madara only said, “You _sing_ ,” in querulous tone, “and I didn’t _know_?”

“No, you hallucinated that,” Tobirama replied, leaning down to kiss the frown that immediately took up residence on Madara’s brow. “Try to sleep?” Madara pouted, but curled against him obligingly.

“Only if you sing some more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words:  
> Hirame: deep sea flatfish, like halibut and flounder  
> Tsunami: If you don't live in the right kind of area, you might not know this one. It's a word that was borrowed from Japanese to describe tidal waves.  
> Mizuame: lit "water candy," is a starch syrup, that is sweet and clear and often used to glaze sweets  
> Kuromitsu: lit "black honey," is a dark syrup that resembles molasses in both color and flavor
> 
> Names:  
> Midorisōgen: The town Yoshihiko stuff happened in. Lit means "green meadow."  
> Megumi: spelled 愛, meaning “love, affection" - Hashirama's mother, and the former Lady Senju
> 
> The poem/lullaby is my own creation, specifically for this story. If anyone wants to use it, just remember to credit me! Here it is, in its entirety, unmangled by the story around it:
> 
> Seed Heart
> 
> Your heart, my love,  
> Is a seed on the wind  
> Take care where it grows  
> In time, my love,  
> It will leave your hand  
> Take root where love flows
> 
> My love, my heart,  
> Is a sheltering tree  
> To shield you as you learn  
> In time, my heart,  
> You'll walk 'neath the sun  
> And grow a seed, in turn


	8. Gifts and Gyudon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara wants a romantic evening in. Hinayu finds reason to be more... accepting. And Tobirama finally gets laid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two apparently don't do normal sex. >.> Also, whoops, I went way super long between posts. But, it's here now, if a bit on the shorter than usual side. I'm working with an average of 5k per chapter though, so at least that's sticking....

Madara felt... steadier. Remembering Tobirama singing for him was a pleasant distraction while he filled out further information on what he remembers of Midorisōgen, and the commune. Which is stupid, because Tobirama was there more recently. Tobirama probably knew more about the place... There’s no need to ask _Madara_ , because Madara hasn’t been there in years.

It’s pointless, but organizations like the village need their redundancies. Perhaps some of his experience will prove useful in the future.

Three things keep him from reaching the state he was in yesterday. A pipe fox murmuring inane predictions in his ear all morning, a soft ball of fluff that nibbles at his bare fingers while he feeds her snacks, and... imagining Tobirama’s voice, singing along to his favorite songs.

Or he could take the biwa and try to play a tune alongside last night’s soft melody... The koto might be more suited to it, but Madara knew the biwa better. Even now, he could feel his fingers curling, like they’re trying to figure out which strings to pin, and which to pluck.

He stayed relatively calm throughout the morning, with such excellent distractions at hand. He plotted, when he needed more of a distraction, on what he’d do when he got home. While he and Tobirama have had plenty of opportunities to have sex, Madara wanted to do more pointless, romantic things together. He wanted to show Tobirama just how much he appreciated being allowed to lean on him so much.

A simple, pointlessly romantic thing was all he wanted of the afternoon. It was too late in the year for flowers, but he could bring Tobirama sweets and... get out of his own comfort zone, and play the biwa for him. Tobirama didn’t give any indication, last time, how he felt about Madara’s playing, but... if he was willing to _sing_ for him...

Nerves are a _pain_. It’s so stupid to be nervous now, when they’ve been together for months. But Madara hadn’t had much chance for romantic gestures. The best he had done was that one missed dinner, and...

Now he’s nervous, and he didn’t even know what he was going to do. On the way home, he stopped at the market, hoping for ideas, and found _persimmons_. Properly dried hoshigaki. If Madara’s mouth waters upon seeing them, he could only imagine how pleased Tobirama might be. It’s not as rare of a find as figs, but Madara bought them anyway.

The proprietor of the stall carefully wrapped them up, as was befitting of a gift, and Madara tucked the package into his robe, trying to keep his head out of the clouds. Stupid, being nervous. But. He never has been good at gift giving, or romance in general. Tobirama liked him, that much was obvious, but... Tobirama always looked baffled, whenever Madara tried to do something nice for him.

Tobirama wasn’t home when he returned, which did little to help the building nerves, but it gave him time to move things to their room, to have them ready for later. The persimmons were left in their nearly artistically tied bundle, and the biwa was hidden on Madara’s side of the bed.

Then he went to check on Ate and his mom, and was somewhat gratified to find that the damage from yesterday - how did she even do that, Madara both wants to know, and really hopes he never finds out - was mostly fixed. If Tobirama took his time getting home from wherever he went off too, it may be complete before he gets back.

“Any preference for dinner?” Madara asked, watching his mother’s clever fingers work the replacement paper for the wall. She taught him a lot of what he knows of crafting, and it was always a pleasure to watch sure hands work.

“Gyudon,” she said, and grinned at the face he made in response. “I know, I know we’ve had it twice this week, but it reminded me how much I like it. Besides, beef is so much cheaper on the mainland. The whole time in Mizu, we were on a budget, and rarely had a chance to have red meat.”

That was a good, sympathetic point. “We had sukiyaki this week, too. It wouldn’t hurt to have chicken or pork.”

“Eggs on gyudon,” she said, and he could almost see her drooling. “With good rice. And garlic. C’mon, you make _good_ gyudon. I want it again!”

Madara sighed. “Fine...” Good thing he had the persimmons, because he doubted that Tobirama would be happy to be having the same meal three times in one week.

When Tobirama finally appeared, it was while Madara was adding starched meat to the pan, and having Ate stir it so that the man had something to do. He had a large box balanced on his shoulder, and Madara had to crush the urge to go and take it from him - you can’t just ditch food when you’re in the middle of frying it. There was also a smaller package under his other arm - rounded, like a scroll.

“What’s that?” Hinayu asked, nose crinkling with suspicion, and Madara... forced himself not to respond, because he’s going to kick her out if she keeps this up. Tobirama might be willing to put up with it, but _he_ is quickly losing his patience.

“You and Ate have been out of the country for the past several years,” Tobirama replied, tone perfectly even. “You’re important to Madara, so I thought I should get a welcoming gift. I’ve been trying to find something appropriate. Thanks to yesterday’s discussion, I was able to find something Ate might enjoy... but you were a bit more difficult, for several reasons.”

To the surprise of absolutely no one, HInayu snapped, “I reject!”

“Kaachan!”

“I’m not rejecting a gift because of you,” Ate said, proving himself to be more sensible, yet again, than Madara’s mother. “Besides, you should at least see what it is before rejecting it.”

The thing that was obviously some kind of scroll was passed to Ate. Like the blankets, the absurd difference in the size of the gifts, as compared to the fact that Ate is usually the largest body in any given room, was ridiculous. And then Tobirama shifted so that he could gently set the box - more of a crate, really - down. Ate also proved that he had no manners, immediately opening the gift... and immediately becoming utterly engrossed. Madara was curious as to what was on that scroll.

“The size of the gift makes up for nothing,” Hinayu pouted... And Madara had to admit, in this case, that she was right. He hoped Tobirama knew what he was doing.

Tobirama... probably knew what he was doing. He rolled his eyes and gestured for her to open the box. And when she did... She sat frozen, staring into it with an indescribable look on her face. Tobirama started to smirk, like he’d already won.

“Is it real?” she asked, voice quavering.

“I’d be impressed if it was a fake,” Tobirama replied, looking stupidly smug. Madara had to move the food away from the fire - thankfully it was pretty much done - so that he wouldn’t burn it in his distraction. “Considering that I picked it out myself.”

“This is proof that you’re evil, you know. That you could find my greatest weakness, so easily..." Hinayu didn’t sound upset, exactly, but she definitely sounded emotional. Madara was starting to get worried.

“Would you like me to lift it out of the box for you?” Tobirama asked.

“Yes please.”

Madara barely noticed, but Ate was watching the scene just as intensely as him, and just as confused. Just as worried. But when Tobirama lifted Hinayu’s gift from the box, Madara wanted to scream, because there was no way that thing was real! “What the fuck is that?”

“It’s a rabbit,” Tobirama replied, and the thing was still lifting, still partly on the ground, and it was starting to look like it was a good four feet long.

“My son,” said Hinayu, that strange quaver in her voice.

“What?” asked Madara, not sure why she felt the need to say... 

“Not you. My new son..." She was reaching her arms out for the rabbit.

Madara dropped his face into his hands. The world stopped making sense. Again. “What the fuck?” Why was the world like this?

“There’s instructions, in the box, as well as everything you need to make it comfortable for the next few days. A harness and leash, because it really should be taken on walks..."

“What’s my new son’s name?” Hinayu asked, and Ate made a strange, confused little noise that Madara felt in his soul.

“That’s for you to decide,” Tobirama told her, and the bastard was acting as though this was completely normal. “I’m told it’s part of the bonding process.” And wasn’t that exactly what he told Madara when he gave him Killer Jade?

“Gyudon,” she said.

“What?”

“My new son’s name. He is Gyudon!” She started to beam, then the expression froze on her face. There was a flicker, like she was remembering something. “Wait. Gyudon. Oh shit, dinner! Madara, you better not be letting dinner burn.”

A short time later, Hinayu was still being strange and dramatic, but they were eating. Tobirama didn’t seem to notice what they were eating, but commented, in brief, that Madara was better at naming things than his mother.

How true that was, Madara sulked. They claimed, afterwards, that he was named for something more ostentatious, but sometimes his mother talked. And she would explain why she named him as she did, and... Ugh. Thankfully there was more to people than the source of their names. (His father was the one to pick the spelling, but it didn’t change what she chose.)

Gyudon was... an odd looking rabbit, his size aside. He had something of a pattern, but was a mix of orange, white and black. Madara had to say his mother’s taste was weird. She also seemed to think that he must be jealous - which he wasn’t. Killer Jade was more than adequate for him, and far more portable.

(Okay, he might be jealous, but not for the reasons she thought. _He’s_ her son, and gods damnit, but he doesn’t want to be jealous of a rabbit taking up her attention. He’s a bigger man than that. And if nothing else, it would be nice to have her distracted from harassing him.)

After that bit of insanity, he almost forgot about the persimmons and the biwa.

* * *

Tobirama found the package of persimmons while they were getting ready for bed. The sleeping yukata that he put on was more of a pretense than anything else. A teasing attempt, perhaps, to get Madara interested in taking it off of him. But the persimmons... 

It’s still early in the year. In spite of the snow - and it’s cold enough that it might snow again tonight, if there’s precipitation at all - it’s not truly winter yet. These persimmons were probably preserved last winter, and kept carefully since. He’s glad that he didn’t overindulge with dinner, because having a full stomach right now would prevent him from enjoying what was obviously meant to be a gift.

Their presence put his self-restraint to the test. He wanted one _now_ , and Madara hasn’t even given them to him yet. He opened the package out of nosiness, but if he _ate_ one... 

He’s an adult. He _can_ put them back, tie off the package just like he found it. He can pretend that he didn’t know that they were there. Or... He could take _one_... and press it to Madara’s lips when Madara turns around.

Madara’s eyes went wide, cheeks flushed, but accepted the persimmon with only one complaint. “I got those for _you_!”

Tobirama smiled, leaned in and bit into the remainder of the persimmon still sticking out of Madara’s mouth. “There, we’re sharing.”

Madara grumbles in that way he does when embarrassed, and Tobirama nearly calls him a dork. He isn’t all that certain that Madara’s on the same page as him, regarding the fond insult, though. He knew how he took it when Madara said it, but whether Madara actually means it that way, he’s uncertain.

He also nearly followed him when Tobirama pulled back, so Tobirama was happy with the results. That and the sweet and flavorful treat stolen right from Madara’s mouth. He’s still chewing on the stolen fruit when Madara pulls him into a proper kiss. For the first time, Tobirama found himself trying to juggle chewing on something and kissing.

No. He didn’t think he liked having his attention split like that. He worked a hand between their mouths - and Madara started pouting, and if he weren’t _chewing_ , Tobirama would be happy to kiss some more - to hold Madara back while he finished his mouthful.

“Not at the same time,” he says, once he managed to swallow. “I’ll end up biting you, and it seems... less sanitary than usual.” Madara laughs against his hand, soft puffs of air that made Tobirama’s lips quirk into a smile he didn’t even bother to fight.

With his mouth empty, Tobirama could enjoy another kiss. It was flavored, on both sides, by the fragrant treat, but that wasn’t as much of a deterrent as food actively in his mouth. It’s stickier, and sweeter than it might have been, but in a way that he enjoys. And Madara’s hands slide down his back, hot and firm, dragging him closer - far better than the sweetness of persimmons.

It probably wasn’t the yukata, hanging low on his shoulders. Madara was far too focused on his mouth, and chasing the lingering sweetness. It’s good. It’s always good. Madara’s hands and mouth always seem to know what he wants. And _gods_ , the frustration of the past few days... It’s suddenly visceral, how much he wants to do something about it.

“Madara..." he gasped against Madara’s mouth, hitching one leg up over Madara’s hip. If Madara decided that they still shouldn’t, Tobirama was going to... be really, really annoyed, and use his hands. Right in front of Madara. Because it’s probably Madara’s fault.

But Madara only chuckled, hand curling under his leg, right at the crease between buttock and thigh, and tugged him right into his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed. It’s exactly where Tobirama wanted to be. Even if they only kiss and perhaps rut together, it’ll be good. Madara felt good and solid under him, between his thighs, and his hands rub Tobirama’s back in a way that wasn’t quite soothing, but still had Tobirama melting against him.

He busied his own hands tying Madara’s hair into a braid. The angle was awkward, but workable, in spite of the distraction in the form of lips on his throat. In spite of Madara’s laughter, as well. “Dork,” Madara murmured, and it sounded heartwrechingly fond.

For some reason, that made him _hurry_ , tying off the braid sloppily, so that he could push Madara down and kiss again. It shut Madara up, but the curl of his lips was obvious against his own. “ _You’re_ a dork,” Tobirama insisted, when he pulled back to breathe.

Of course that had Madara laughing again. Fingers curl into Tobirama’s hair, warm and bare, and Madara nipped lightly at his lip. “Do you want anything in particular?” he asked, still stupidly fond sounding. “Or is this going to be one of those nights?” With a roll of his hips, he demonstrated his point. “I’ll be happy either way.”

Tobirama didn’t have a strong opinion. “It’s all good to me.” After all, he could get off just listening to Madara. Madara’s hands, the feeling of their cocks grinding together, the tight clutch of Madara’s body around him, or the occasional roughness of Madara fucking _him_ , or even his own hand, with his mouth on Madara... It was all good. “As long as I can hear you, I’m happy.”

There’s the flutter of another laugh, a gentle press of lips against his, and Madara said, “I still think I talk too much.”

“Hah... You can speak complete gibberish,” Tobirama told him, “and I’ll still enjoy it.” As proven by the poetry incident. “But I like it more when you tell me what you want to do to me.”

He’s rewarded by a deep groan, Madara flushing so hard, and so quickly that Tobirama could feel the heat radiating from from his face. “Gods, you utter _shit_. You’re a horrible person. Why would you say something like that?!”

“For your reaction,” he admitted, and rocked in Madara’s lap. It wasn’t an apology, really. More like a reward. “You’re such a _dork_ when you get embarrassed like that..."

Madara rolled them over, growling, “I’ll show you dork,” and smothered Tobirama’s laughter with another kiss. The pleasure of their cocks grinding together shut him up more easily, and Madara groaning into his mouth was even better. “You’re an asshole, and I don’t know why I like you so fucking much.”

The laughter came back, and Tobirama can barely get words out between it and arousal. The feelings don’t mesh well, but they’re _there_ , and he couldn’t just suppress just one. Perhaps both, but not one. “Madara..." He tried to smother a giggle, but _couldn’t_. “You’re a dork.”

Madara swore against his neck, shoulders shaking with mirth. “Fuck you.”

“That’s what we were trying, isn’t it?” Then Madara _bit_ him, and Tobirama yelped. “Hey! I’m not the one who started this!”

“You are,” Madara argued, biting again, and... That was a good one. It didn’t quite quell the laughter, but Tobirama squirmed at the feeling. “Fucking _dork_.” Madara’s shoulders still shook with suppressed laughter, but he rolls their hips together hard enough that Tobirama gasped, legs jerking, and clamping down on Madara’s hips.

The feelings don’t mesh well at all, but... Tobirama doesn’t mind. He doubted that he could come while giggling like a loon, but it still felt wonderful. The laughter just gave it a strange edge. “Mmmm..." He couldn’t quite keep it out of his voice, a soft snicker escaping right after a moan. “Hah, hah-harder.”

Madara’s fingers danced up his side, and Tobirama jerked under him. “I think if you’re going to be laughing anyway..."

“Nonono you don’t!” Madara did it again, and Tobirama couldn’t bite back a shriek. It still sounded like laughter, and if he were to be honest with himself it _was_ , it was just... a different kind of laughter. “I’ll bite you!”

“That’s not much of a deterrent,” Madara told him, and... His fingers were oddly gentle, but still poking, testing, and Tobirama tried to squirm out from under him. His touch firmed, for just a moment, holding Tobirama still. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” and while Tobirama started to process that, his fingers started moving.

Tobirama’s body jerked out of his control, and he swore at Madara, but... It’s like before, only growing in intensity. He was still aroused, and Madara’s body was still heavy against his, and... He couldn’t quite make himself tell Madara to stop. Nonsensical threats fall from his lips and he scratches Madara’s back, tries to kick him, and... Each unconscious jerk of his body only served to heighten his arousal, rubbing his cock against Madara’s, and it feels electric, when the sensations finally mesh.

He was still twitching under Madara when he could think again. Madara’s hands still moved, but in slow, soothing sweeps, while Madara nuzzled against his neck, murmuring quiet praise. The urgency - and he wasn’t sure what he wanted, anyway - was gone, replaced by a gentle lassitude that seemed more than the usual, post coital haze.

Taking stock of his body, it certainly seemed like he’d gotten off, and gotten off _hard_. That... had to be one of the stranger things he’s gotten off to. From the way Madara was moving, and the warm steadiness of his chakra, Tobirama had to assume that Madara had as well. Well. From Madara, it probably made more sense. “That... is not going to be a regular thing,” he eventually managed. “I might have enjoyed that, but it was fucking weird.”

Madara’s shoulders were shaking again, laughter barely audible, in spite of how close his mouth was to Tobirama’s ear. He heard it more as a thrum in Madara’s chest. “No, I understand. It was... pretty weird.”

“You better not get into the habit of tickling me, either,” he said, trying to keep his voice stern. It wasn’t working very well, but the effort had to count for something, right?

Madara gave him a look like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “Of course not,” he said, and rolled them into a more comfortable position.

“You’ll be the one cockblocking yourself,” he tried - and already knew that was a failure, given the amused gleam in Madara’s eyes, and the fact that it certainly hasn’t stopped them from having sex in the past. In fact, the first spanking incident was in direct retaliation to tickling. “Oh fuck off.”

Madara chuckled, kissing beneath Tobirama’s ear. “I’ll try to restrain myself, even if that’s a good look on you.” Tobirama wanted to doubt that, but... He’s too comfortable to complain. Too worn, because apparently the combination was overwhelming, physically. Madara sighed against his throat, a vague, regretful feeling tainting his chakra. “I was planning to... play the biwa for you.”

Tobirama made an intrigued sound. He’s more fond of music than people tend to assume, but rarely has time to just _listen_ to it. Madara’s playing, what little he caught of it, was pleasant, even if the melody itself had been melancholic. “You still can,” he said, reaching for the package of persimmons. “I’ll listen.” They’re both a sweaty mess, but Tobirama didn’t think that would affect Madara’s playing much.

Madara huffed in a way that sounded offended, but his chakra still read the same. “Really, Tobirama? Couldn’t you have waited five minutes?” Madara rolled his eyes, accepting when Tobirama offers one in something like an apology. He chews on it, watching Tobirama nibble on the outer skin of his own. “If you want me to play, we’ll have to move.”

Now that, Tobirama didn’t like. He put up with it, even going so far as to drag pillows into appropriate positions to prop them up. Then he realized that they are both still sticky and filthy and used his yukata to clean them up - much to Madara’s continued amusement - before tossing it off the edge of the bed and curling up against Madara’s side again.

“So you’re just going to lay here naked?” Madara asked, with a lopsided smile. After a moment’s thought, Tobirama pulled up the blanket, and arched an eyebrow at him. “Fair enough.”

In spite of the snacking urge, Tobirama was sleepy. “Do you have anything happy?” he asked. “Not. Loud, but... calm, and cheerful, maybe?”

Madara hummed beneath his breath, said, “I think so,” and pulled the biwa into his lap. Tobirama hadn’t even noticed that it was in the room with them. Not an unforgivable lapse, but an uncomfortable one, given the size of the instrument.

Madara’s fingers were sure on the strings, and started to pluck out the beginnings of a melody that has Tobirama smiling as he bites into another persimmon. It’s perhaps the most pleasant end to a day that he can imagine. Sweetness on his lips, a sweet lassitude in his body, and the sweet strains of music filling his head as he slips into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gyudon: lit "beef bowl," because Hinayu is not very imaginative when it comes to names.


	9. A Prospective Student (and drama)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagami brings his girlfriend by his uncle's place.

While Madara tried to find the equilibrium he once had - meditation, this time, in the garden, and Tobirama wholeheartedly supports anything that might help Madara’s stability - Tobirama did his level best to convince Touka to give him actual work. He trusted her to keep the clan running, of course, but this enforced leave was killing him. Hopefully not literally, though he did occasionally feel like spontaneously combusting in a manner similar to Madara’s more dramatic displays.

“If you absolutely need something to do,” Touka growled, shoving him out of his own office - such an affront! “Then you can make your rounds tomorrow. Check in on the clan, make them feed you, and make them feel like you haven’t forgotten them. I’ve been feilding complaints of that nature all week.”

She locks him out, the bitch. He kicked the door before heading towards his brother’s office, because apparently he needed to bring _his_ complaints to a higher power.

Shockingly, Hashirama proves to be immovable. “I know we’re both going to hate me for this, but no. Besides, you’re always counseling me towards patience. ‘Don’t give advice you wouldn’t follow,’ right? Isn’t that one of the few things we agreed that our father had right?”

“Unless you’re counseling your enemy,” Tobirama grumbled, then heaved himself up onto Hashirama’s desk, so that it won’t be between them if he needs to strangle his brother. “This is killing me. It’s more stressful, not being allowed to do anything, and you _know that_.”

Hashirama didn’t even bat an eye at his new placement. “You have hobbies,” he argued. “Indulge in them. Anyway, I can’t give you what you want. Remember that agreement we have? About Baachan? _She’s the one_ insisting on this. And we both swore, to keep things equal between us, we’d listen to her first, before each other.”

The fight is already lost, and Tobirama knew it. He collapsed on the desk, every bit as dramatic as he’s ever accused his brother of, as Hashirama continues his argument. Each point Hashirama brings up is like a stone on his stomach.

“We’re both like this. We get to a certain point in our recovery - physical or you know, trauma - and then we just can’t be trusted to make these decisions for ourselves. We both push too far, too fast. Like that one time, when that civilian doctor amputated my leg. I’m sure you remember my recovery!”

Tobirama does, indeed, remember Hashirama’s recovery from the event in question. It’s why Hashirama can’t look straight at anyone carrying a bone saw. “You never did recover,” Tobirama grunted.

“Look. My point is, you have to ask her. She’s the authority here..."

There’s a small, polite cough from the door, audibly drawing Tobirama’s attention to the chakras that have been hovering there for the past few minutes. “I’m sorry, but we do have a meeting scheduled,” Sora said, muted tone giving away none of the humor bubbling through his chakra.

Sasuke didn’t even bother to hide his amusement. “Indeed. I look forward to seeing you, Tobirama. Next week.”

Tobirama groaned and dragged himself off of Hashirama’s desk. He could go to Tomoyo-baasan, and try to convince her that he’s as recovered as he’s going to be, but already knows that she’s far more stubborn than him. He needs proof to win this argument.

Proof that you’ve recovered from a non-physical condition is... difficult to come by. He needs a plan, if he’s going to ask her to rescind his mandatory leave. She’s beyond the range of his usual manipulations.

While it wouldn’t occur to him to even _think_ that he’s not quite ready to be back in the thick of things, it _was_ true that some small tasks would ease his tension. Tobirama was never a man who did well with idleness. Somehow, what occurs to him is that _Madara_ , who lives with him, could advocate for his state of mind with his grandmother.

Madara, who is currently at home, meditating in the garden - and being interrupted every few minutes, with an increasing level of aggravation. There are two small chakras lingering near him, one which Tobirama knows well, watching Madara throw a tantrum from over the garden wall. It’s possible that Tobirama should intervene.

Instead, he hopped up onto the garden wall - cushioning his feet with chakra to keep the snow from crunching beneath him - to crouch next to Kagami and his little friend. The girl, upon closer inspection - especially since they hadn't noticed him yet - is just as adorable as Kagami liked to say... It must be Ea. Her hair is a warm brown and up in a pair of bao, and she has a cute little smile on her face as she clings to the wall next to Kagami.

He’ll have to tease his nephew about her, later. Catching them spying on Madara is something that he’ll treasure forever.

Madara, some feet away, was arguing with one of his foxes. “I know I’m not doing it right. That’s the problem. I need calm, not you jabbing me because I’m off center.” He wasn’t yelling, but the frustration was as clear in his voice as it was in his chakra.

Kagami muffled a giggle, and the girl wiggled in place, trying to balance more comfortably. Still smiling. Still adorable. Still focused on Madara, and unaware of Tobirama, in spite of how close he was.

Once Madara grumbled and tried to return to meditation - likely to fail again in a matter of minutes - Ea glanced over and nearly dropped from her perch. She caught herself quickly, and her smile barely dimmed, only to return all the brighter. Her reaction had _Kagami_ glance over, however... and he nearly fell too, yowling like a cat whose tail was stepped on... and jerking Madara right back out of his meditation.

Down below, Madara threw his hands into the air and declared himself done, while Kagami reddened and shrank under Tobirama’s bland stare. The boy was only eight, but his reaction was... less than ideal. A ninja’s first reaction to being startled should _never_ be “yowl like a cat”.

But he was only eight, and it’s a different world than it was when Tobirama was his age. There would be time to train him out of such reactions. He sighed and reached out to pat Kagami on the head. “We’ll have to work on that,” he told him. Chastisement was unnecessary, when Kagami was already aware of his disappointment.

Ea patted Kagami on the back. “I’ll scare you lots, and help.”

Kagami groaned.

* * *

Ea was excited. Kagami was going to introduce her to _Uchiha Madara_ \- who a lot of adults acted like was scary, scary, scary, but he _wasn’t_ scary, he was just _loud_ \- and now she got to meet Senju Tobirama as well. A lot of adults think Tobirama is scary, scary, scary, too, but he’s... like water. Steady, and calm, and he talks _to her_ and not down to her. Then again, a lot of adults say a lot of things are scary, which doesn’t really make sense to her because she’s not scared very often. If so many things were scary, wouldn’t she be scared more?

Madara had to block the fox from going inside with them, and it pouted until Ea told it that it was “Nice to meet you.” Then it preened and grinned and allowed itself to be shooed away. The foxes aren’t scary either, no matter what adults say.

She kinda wanted to explore the house, but that wouldn’t be good etiquette, without permission. Her brother, Eyo, was very, very insistent that she learn good etiquette. They might not have much, he said, but they can be _polite_.

Senju Tobirama’s house was nice, and felt older than most of the other places in Konoha, which was neat and kind of confusing. The village, as big as it was, was _new_ , so none of the buildings are old. (She was really little when Konoha was founded, but she knows that the places they lived before coming to Konoha were _older_ , lots older.)

They were going to have dinner with Kagami’s mom, but since Kagami didn’t actually warn his mother, he didn’t have a leg to stand on when his uncle insisted that they have dinner with him.

There were other people in the house: a girl who looked a little older than them, and a man about as big as Nara-sama, but with amazing blood red hair that she wanted to dig her hands into and play with. It was almost as awesome as Madara’s hair, which was long enough for her to grab if she wanted, without him even bending. And it was fluffy, which made it hard to keep her hands to herself.

Kagami rushed ahead, babbling a mile a minute, and Ea rolled her eyes. It _was_ his uncle’s house, so he could probably get away with being a little rude. He almost forgot to take off his shoes, and she rolled her eyes again. Boys were always so _messy_... except Danzo. But she thought that was because he was always worrying. Kagami didn’t worry _enough_.

“Are we having chicken?” she asked, tugging on the edge of Tobirama’s shirt. “If you need to kill one for dinner, I can do it.”

Tobirama glanced down at her, one eyebrow raised - and how did he do that? - and said, “No, we’re having fish.” Madara laughed, but Ea wasn’t sure what was funny about that.

“Oh. It’s probably already dead then.” Dead fish were kinda boring, because aside from not moving, they weren’t much different from live fish. Their insides were interesting though. Way different from chickens. Way different from that one human body that they found in the woods, and the one that they got to see dissected by a mortician as a class thing. Dead _people_ were even more interesting than chickens. Their parts were bigger, and you could kinda tell what everything was, if it’s fresh enough.

“Fish tend to be quite dead before they reach my house,” Tobirama agreed.

“You could keep them alive in the garden pond, if you wanted them fresher. If I ever have my own house, I’m going to keep fish and chickens, and maybe a few goats. Baby goats taste good, and goats have better milk than cows.” Cows, Ea was aware, are _everywhere_ in this part of Hi no Kuni. There’s a pasture full of them not too far from where she and her brother live.

“You’re so great,” Kagami said, with that silly smile he got while talking to her and Danzo. He’s so full of it. She’s not quite determined what “it” is, but Kagami was _definitely_ full of it.

“I hope you’re aware that you said that out loud,” Tobirama said, guiding them further into the house, where the irori was nice and warm.

“Ea deserves to know how great she is,” Kagami replied, still full of it.

Ea didn’t need to hear about how great she is. Praise was all well and good, but she was more interested in finding out about Madara, and Tobirama, because of the way adults talk about them when they’re sure she’s not listening - she’s always listening, it’s how she finds out stuff. The other two, she’s curious about too, because she didn’t know who they were.

No one seems to think about introducing anyone else, which was typical of adults. Adults usually only bother to introduce other adults, but since Kagami and her are children, that courtesy seems to have been forgotten. Ea wasn’t sure if she should bring it up though. Would it be rude to bring it up? Was she being too judgy? Maybe she should just ask who they are?

The other girl seemed to be a good place to start. “My name is Ea, what’s yours?”

The other girl blinked at her, then smiled... like an adult. Weird. Ea needed to keep an eye on her, because an adult smile on another kid means that the other kid is _Up to Something_. “My name is Hinayu, spelled ‘ice’ ‘summer’ ‘night’.”

Ea had to think for a moment on the spelling of her name, but then she had it. “Mine’s spelled ‘eternal’ ‘sky’.”

Hinayu’s smile widened. “That’s a lovely name. What about your boyfriend?”

Ea wasn’t sure she wanted to call Kagami that yet, even though she knew _he_ did. “Kagami? His is spelled like ‘mirror’. Just one kanji. It’s sad.”

“Ea...” Kagami whined, and she rolled her eyes again. He’s so dramatic.

Hinayu’s head tilted, like a bird - but not a dead one. “Kagami’s a good name. Are you an Uchiha, kid?”

Kagami huffed at her. “Don’t call me ‘kid’. You can’t be that much older than me.”

Hinayu’s face began to redden - fascinating, how fast that can happen - but she didn’t get a chance to reply. “Actually,” Tobirama interrupted, bringing a pan over to the fire, “Hinayu is quite old. She happens to be Madara’s mother.”

The blood immediately drains out of Hinayu’s face, leaving her _white_. “I’m _not_..!” she began to shriek, only for the big, red haired man to clap a hand over her mouth.

“Fifty is old,” the man said. “Why don’t you go get Gyudon from the garden, and take a moment to calm down.” He then released her, with a shove toward the back door, where they had come in. Hinayu glared on her way out. “I’m Ate, just so you know.”

Well. Introducing herself had gotten her everyone’s names, at least. Only now Madara was introducing himself, wryly, like he was embarrassed that he only just thought to do so. “Uchiha Madara, and if you didn’t get introduced yet, this bastard-” “Madara,” Ate interrupted, scowling - “is Senju Tobirama. I’m pleased to meet one of Kagami’s friends.”

Ea had heard _so many_ things about Madara, that she’s not sure what she wanted to ask first. Adults said so many things, so many that she doesn’t know if they could be true, and Madara was a near mythical being, in school. More so than Tobirama. Other kids _saw_ Tobirama, because sometimes he picked up his students after school. “Can you really punch someone through a mountain?”

He looked like she caught him flat footed, but he answered anyway. “Only one that could survive?” And Tobirama laughed, this time.

“Really?” Someone survived that? How could they survive that? Impact alone... Mountains are harder than bodies... Ah. Chakra. Chakra could do that, she thought, if someone had enough. “Who?”

Madara was turning red, much, much slower than Hinayu had. “Um. Hashirama?”

Senju Hashirama would be a legend, but they saw him at school sometimes too. He didn’t seem like someone who could go through a mountain and not die. She hummed doubtfully.

“No, I really... did.” Madara squirmed, visibly embarrassed.

“I believe you,” she said, because she did. “But he doesn’t seem like he’s that strong.”

Tobirama made a choking noise, and Madara threw him an exasperated look, before shaking his head. “Hashirama is good at seeming like he’s not dangerous,” he told her, shrugging. “It’s a surprisingly useful talent.”

Ea hummed again, this time, more thoughtful. That probably would be useful, for a ninja. Especially for someone who’s supposed to be the strongest ninja. “Did you really reroute the river?”

Madara got redder. “Ehr... yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I was really, really angry.”

That seemed like a good reason. She had no idea why people were mad about it. Well. Maybe if their stuff got broken. She doesn’t remember if anyone’s stuff got broken, only something about having to move a lot of things. “People had to move things?” she asked, frowning. Because she wanted to be clear on what happened.

“Yeah,” Madara paused to cough. “The entire market district. Thankfully there wasn’t much there yet.”

“Huh,” she said. “I wonder what it would be like if the market district was where the water is now?” Then, after a moment’s thought, decided, “I guess it would be pretty inconvenient. That’s pretty far from my apartment.”

There’s the sound of several adults coughing. They do that when they think something is funny, but thinking back over what she said, she couldn’t think of anything particularly funny about it.

Tobirama smirked at Madara. “I suppose your temper tantrums had to be good for something.”

Childishly, Madara stuck out his tongue at Tobirama. One of the things Ea remembered people saying, up until recently, was that Senju Tobirama and Uchiha Madara didn’t get along. That they hated each other. They _stopped_ saying that, but... That’s how Kagami and Koharu are with each other, and _those two_ definitely hate each other.

“Are you guys faking liking each other?” Because she _heard_ that they were _dating_ , and you’re only supposed to date people you like.

Tobirama’s face did something complicated, while Madara frowned. “What?” asked Tobirama.

“Yeah... What gave you that idea?” Madara asked.

Ea crossed her arms, and frowned right back. “You make faces at each other like Kagami and Koharu, and _they_ hate each other, but people say you’re _dating_ , and you’re not supposed to do that if you _don’t_ like each other.” This time, they share a look, and it’s like they know what each other is thinking, like _Homura_ and Koharu. And those two are like _siblings_ , which makes it weirder.

“Some couples enjoy mocking each other,” Tobirama says, and Madara snorted.

“Fair enough,” Madara said.

Ea thought it over, and nodded. She kinda got it. “Kagami and Danzo make funny faces when I make fun of them, so I guess..."

“It’s like a game,” Tobirama added, settling down to prep the pan that he had brought over, sliding it onto a rack over the fire. “I make fun of Madara, and wait to see what he has to get me back with. It can be quite fun, finding just the right things that will annoy but not hurt.”

That sounds like one of those important life skills her brother always talked about. Like cooking. But Kagami’s the one obsessed with cooking. He followed Madara away to help him set dinner up, and maybe learn more about cooking. Ea was fine knowing how to make rice, and wrap up fish or chicken and bake it in the fire. Or mushrooms. Mushrooms are good to bake in the fire too, especially the way her brother does it.

...they aren’t going to have mushrooms, and she knew it. Maybe they’ll fry the fish?

No, they’re frying vegetables. Tiny ears of corn, and peas, and onions, and garlic, and water chestnuts, and bamboo shoots, and... MUSHROOMS. She saw lots of slices of mushrooms falling into the pan, Madara stirring them with an almost zen expression. He poured a golden colored liquid into it, then a cloudy white one, and both smelled sharp, making her mouth water.

Then a tray with foil wrapped something - probably fish - is laid directly among the coals.

One of the adults was laughing at her, but she didn’t care. It smelled good, and she wanted to eat. She wanted to eat it now.

Eventually, the vegetables were served on a bed of rice noodles, with a dark, tangy sauce, and the fish was piping hot next to it - and she didn’t know what kind of fish it was, but never had a fish she didn’t like unless it was cooked bad - covered in herbs and more garlic.

It was soooo good. “I hope Kagami learns all your secrets,” she told Madara, and Madara nodded sagely.

“I’m trying,” said Kagami. “I only just started, so I have time to learn it all.”

“Good. I’d hate not to be able to eat like this every day, if we got married.”

“Ack, my heart,” Kagami whined, inspiring another round of laughter from the adults.

(Hinayu brought in a bunny bigger than her, just before dinner, and the big bunny had his own plate of noodles and vegetables, sans sauce. There was also a little orange noodle fox that zipped around for a couple minutes at the beginning of the meal before it hid again. And _Madara_ had a bunny too, and it was smaller, but it looked soft and grey, and Ea wanted to touch it. She knows better than to say anything about eating bunnies, because _these_ are pets... But bunnies are tasty.)

By the end of dinner, she managed to sidle close to Madara, and tell him about the bird Danzo brought her. He’d accidentally hit it with a kunai in practice, and it had such pretty yellow feathers - “A goldfinch,” Madara said, identifying it from her description, and he knew _a lot_ \- and some that were nearly as black as Madara’s hair. She couldn’t keep it long, because she didn’t know how to keep it from rotting, but Madara didn’t even blink over the description that made Eyo turn a little green.

It _must_ be a ninja thing. Civilians get grossed out over things like that, but not ninjas. Well, some of the ninjas in training, like in her class, got grossed out too, but it wasn’t like they were ninjas _yet_. And they didn’t _know things_ like Madara. She wanted to pick his brain - not literally, but if something ever happened to him, she wouldn’t mind to take a look - and learn things from him. He’s weird and nice, and he actually answers her and Kagami’s questions.

Several times, Hinayu and Ate interrupted him while he was answering one of the questions, telling him that it was inappropriate to answer in detail. Which he didn’t mind giving them. She got him to tell her about pig disposal, and how it wasn’t unlike butchering chickens for the Akimichis. It was just that the pigs were going to eat the person being disposed of.

It’s good to know that pigs will eat dead people. And Ea didn’t like that _those two_ kept interrupting Madara. “Will you two stop that? I’m trying to have a conversation!” Kagami immediately agreed with her, scowling at the culprits.

Tobirama made that noise again, that implied he was trying really hard not to laugh. Adults were _weird_. If something’s really that funny, he should just laugh. Not that she has any idea what’s so funny. Smothering another laugh, Tobirama chivvied the two up, and made them help him with clean up.

Well, maybe that would take care of the interruptions.

* * *

After watching that particular tiny terror and Madara’s interactions, Tobirama had some thoughts. The dramatic failure to get his medical leave cut short was only one of the things he talked to Hashirama about. Namely, he wanted Hashirama’s thoughts on Madara having students. Particularly, about a certain policy involving shinobi who _have_ new students.

If they wait too long to put Madara back into the field, without a good excuse... It won’t be good for PR. But if they have a good excuse... Giving Madara students would certainly classify as a good excuse. They only need Madara to agree, but Tobirama thinks Ea would be a perfect choice, if he can swing it. He would like to see Madara with a proper team, though. Ea would be a start, but she can’t be the only one.

He plots to himself while setting up a sleeping space for the children. At their age, he has little concern letting them sleep in the same room, especially since he’s setting them up on the couch. They’ll be comfortable and cozy there, due to the extensive seal work on it. They’ll whisper to each other for another hour, and then be out like lights.

He warns Madara that he’s going to tell Kukaku where Kagami got off to - and letting her know that she has the night off from basic child rearing duties - and set off into the snow.

The air was crisp and cold, and it wasn’t snowing properly, not yet, but Tobirama suspected that by the time he got back home, it would be. He was determined to enjoy it, then get back to Madara, and stick his cold feet underneath Madara’s warm body...

Even without the hiraishin, it was a quick trip, and Kukaku mocked him for bothering to slog through the snow before he turned around for the return trip. He was well aware that he didn’t need to do this. He could have used the hiraishin to completely skip going outside at all.

But where would be the fun in that? He wanted to hear how loudly Madara will curse about his icy feet. A tiny tiny bit of revenge, on Hashirama’s behalf, maybe. Ignoring that he helped with the buckets of snow, anyway.

By the time he got back, he still wasn’t sure how he was going to convince Madara that he should take students. He should have been plotting during dinner, but he was just a bit too entertained by the tiny terror, and the way Kagami watched her all starry eyed. He wondered how Danzo managed to hit a finch when he could barely hit a target three times out of ten...

To his surprise, Madara has the furo ready for the both of them - almost as though he caught Tobirama’s plotting about cold feet - and dragged him in when he popped in to check what Madara was doing. The bath is welcome, and the hot water is relaxing... All the little thoughts of the day run out of his mind, like water off his shoulders, and he’s left with his cheek on Madara’s shoulder, eyes shaded by his lover’s throat.

He wasn’t sleepy, but he was comfortable, and Madara smelled good. Like a day in the garden. The scents of snow, stubborn grass and snow blooms clinging to his hair. If only he wasn’t so _bored_ these past few days, he would be able to appreciate this more.

When Madara spoke, it took a moment to actually _hear_ what he was saying - the deep rumble of his voice felt too good. “How many of the clan heads have students?” he was asking, and Tobirama blinked. He might not have to convince Madara, after all.

“Myself, obviously. Tamotsu, Yasutora and Sora. Hashirama and I trade off our students. Kouga and Sasuke both claim that they have too much to do to take on students... Though Sasuke has considered doing so if he can have one of his clan take over when he can’t handle it...”

Madara tilted his head, as though purposefully placing himself so that his sigh would ruffle Tobirama’s hair. “Kouga probably could manage,” he said, rubbing his cheek against Tobirama’s hair. “But he won’t until someone else takes charge of his clan. Sasuke... I mean. Yeah, he’s... busy. I..."

Tobirama reached up with a wet hand to cover Madara’s mouth. “Are you saying you’d like students? Hashirama would be excited, I think.”

Madara groans so feelingly that Tobirama has to smother a laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think I want what he’d give me. I don’t even think I want to _know_ what he’d give me.”

Tobirama nodded, knowing that Madara would feel it more than see it. “Ea would be a good student, but there’s only one of her. You could do an apprenticeship, but if you want to train a _team_ , we need two more.” Unfortunately, most of the children he knows are already on teams.

“I could ask her how she feels about her fellow academy students,” Madara suggests softly and Tobirama nodded again.

“I could look into it for you.” Tobirama shifted until his face was pressed against Madara’s throat. “It’ll give me something to do, and you won’t have to worry about it.”

Madara sighed again. “And then there will be paperwork to fill out. I’ll... Yeah. I’ll have to talk to Hashirama about it anyway, won’t I?”

“He was already thinking about asking you,” Tobirama said, shrugging. “I was trying to find the words to say I think you should. For several reasons.”

“Mmm. It’s not like I can fuck them up too much,” Madara murmured.

Tobirama punched his shoulder when what he said sunk in.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names:
> 
> Ea: “eternal sky” 永空 (very dramatic for such a tiny girl)  
> Eyo: “eternal world” 永世 (Ea's brother)

**Author's Note:**

> If I miss anything that needs an explanation, don't forget to tell me!


End file.
